never let your fear decide your fate
by Lady Shaye
Summary: Daroline, zombies, and a ton of running around. They're screwed. / Chapter 14: In which Stefan gets revenge and Damon is an idiot. *IN PROGRESS*
1. in your world the strong survive

A/N: Hurray! I finally got it up. It took me a week to write, but it's happening! My first VD multichapter fic! I'm so excited! Notice the overusage of exclamation points, that means that I'm excited! Yayayayayayayay! (Sorry. I'll stop.) Anyway, _pariswindspeed_ wanted a happy fic. What did I give her? Mountains and mountains and piles upon piles of character death and hurt/comfort and vague endings. That stops now. What am I gonna give her instead? Oh, well, zombies and more death, of course. Duh *rolles eyes* the only way to write a happy fic. Yeah. My emotions are all scrambled up.

_Pariswindspeed_, darling, I hope you like, because you are like one of my bestest, most favoritest (IDK, is that even a word?) reviewers _ever_. And one of my only ff friends, so I, like, worship you. I'm always checking for your latest. Hopefully you like mine. (Am I pressuring you too much? Sorry.)

Disclaimer: If _I_ owned Vampire Diaries, there would be Daroline and definitely more Candice and Ian interviews. *sigh* OMG and he would be shirtless more. *collapses at thought*

Summary: Damon, Stefan, Elena, Jeremy, Bonnie, and Jenna all take a roadtrip during the zombie apocalypse. They pick up Liz's newcomer daughter. Crazy stuff ensues. Daroline.

Note: Daroline is _endgame_, in my world. OTP.

Title taken from Awolnation's _Kill Your Heroes_.

Here, everybody's human. Just a heads-up. :)

* * *

_in your world the strong survive _

–The War Against Drugs, "Arms like Boulders"

* * *

"Seriously?" Damon asks, watching Stefan lock the door. "That's unnecessary. They will fucking punch through the door. Locks mean nothing to them."

"It buys us a few minutes," Stefan states, his tone panicked but forcibly calmed. He seems stressed, his forehead more lined and worried than usual. He bites his lip. "This sucks. The _one time_ I don't go shopping for groceries, the zombie apocalypse starts."

Damon sighs. "You are seriously fucking complaining about the state of our _fridge_? Might I remind you that there are insane non-people outside eating other people? Shall I tell you that we are going to be _fighting for our survival _for the next foreseeable _forever_? Honestly," he grumbles, his anger dissipating as he goes up the stairs with Stefan. "By the way, I know you think that going up the stairs will help us, but high ground ain't gonna do shit unless we have guns. And, Mr. I-don't-hunt-so-you-don't-either, we _don't have guns_. You make me throw them away."

"I know, I know!" Stefan hisses.

(_As though whispering will do us much freaking good_, Damon thinks.)

"Well, then, what do you plan to do about it?"

"We need to get some things."

"I _know_ that. Guns, food, water, more guns, medicine and bandages, a hideout, more guns, an awesome zombie-resistant car (preferably an SUV or something), every single zombie apocalypse movie we can find, more guns, radios, as much money as we can get, a crossbow or two or something, more g—" Damon says all in one breath before he's interrupted.

"I _meant_ people," Stefan says, raising an eyebrow. "You know, my girlfriend and her family, maybe?"

Damon sighs. "Yeah. Right. Those. Whatever. You pick up your girly, I'll pack anything we need from here."

"Why do we have to leave so soon? We're in a small town, if we take down all the zombies here then we should be good for a while, don't you think?"

Turning to his brother, who is halfway up the stairs, Damon says in a bored tone, "Well, yeah, but seriously? We'd be better off on the road. Eventually this place is gonna run out of food, and I don't know about you, but I don't like the thought of turning to cannibalism and anything we can find in the woods. We pick up our people and our supplies and we _go_."

"Should we take Bonnie?" Stefan asks. "She's Elena's best friend, after all. Unless she's already a zombie."

"Yup, no zombies in the soon-to-be-ours stolen SUV," Damon says monotonously. "That's a rule, for sure. Now. So. To be clear, we're _just_ taking Elena, her family, and possibly Bonnie if she hasn't become some brain-craving creature?"

Stefan shakes his head at his brother, sighing. "You forgot what Liz told us."

"As if I could ever forget that," Damon murmurs to himself as Stefan makes his way up the stairs. Damon lingers at the foot of the staircase, his mind unwillingly going back to that memory.

* * *

_Liz sighed as Damon probed the wound on her shoulder, and then winced as he prodded one particular section of the bloody mess of flesh. "It's a zombie bite, Damon," she said, voicing the words neither he nor Stefan could say themselves. "It's fatal."_

_"I know," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."_

_She cracked a smile. "It's okay, just—promise me that you'll take care of my daughter. She's coming in tomorrow. Please, just. Make sure Caroline's safe. Don't let her get bitten, okay?"_

_"Yeah. Yeah, I'll protect her, I promise you."_

_"Thank you."_

_And then Liz pulled the trigger of the gun held up to her forehead._

* * *

Damon sighs again. Liz was a good friend, and though he's never met her daughter, he figures it won't be too hard to pick up some girl and take care of her until she's okay to be on her own. If she's anything like Liz, she can be all right by herself.

But for now, that means scanning the entrance to the town for a taxi.

He and Stefan leave the house together, both holding a backpack filled with any items (sentimental ones) that they might want. Damon carries a cooler full of ice, water bottles, alcohol, and some food. Stefan holds the duffel bag full of food, but it won't last them for long. They'll have to stop at a convenience store soon.

Damon first takes them to the gun store, insisting that they get guns first. Crime means nothing now, when nearly all of the population is eating brains. So they get guns. Two shotguns, two handheld guns, and a few others for emergencies. They also take as many bullets as they can carry.

They stop at Elena's house and pick up her, Bonnie, Jeremy, and Jenna. The four of them are each in different emotional stages. Jenna is angry and fierce and she's holding her shotgun like it's the last thing in the world that she can depend on. There's blood on her forehead and in her hair and Damon suspects that it isn't her own. Jeremy is, quite frankly, terrified, and he's clinging to the baseball bat he holds in his hands. Bonnie is mostly clearheaded, but she keeps muttering to herself, and she won't let go of the bloody butcher knife she took from Elena's kitchen.

And Elena. She's kind of depressed, but she seems mostly fine. She doesn't seem to be in any danger, and none of them have sustained bites. Stefan gives her one of their extra guns and shows her the basics of using it. They all climb into the SUV that Damon stole from the side of the road, ignoring the blood on the seats, and Damon insists on driving. Nobody bothers to argue with him.

Then they go to the entrance of the town and pull off onto the right side of the road into a ditch, to wait for Liz's daughter. Caroline.

* * *

They decide to take shifts while waiting for this girl, and Stefan is up first. Elena falls asleep on his arm and he sits in the back seat with her. He's on the left side, facing the road so he can see any oncoming cars. Elena is in the middle, slumped against him. Jenna snores on the right side of the backseat, leaned against the window, the blood wiped from her forehead but still looking like dye in her hair.

Bonnie and Jeremy are together in the middle seats on opposite sides, with Jeremy in front of his aunt and Bonnie in front of Stefan, both of them asleep. Their hands are just barely brushing, a small indicator, and Stefan suspects that they have a lingering romantic attraction. Which is odd, because isn't Jeremy like a little brother to Bonnie or something? Oh, whatever. Let them date during a freaking zombie apocalypse. Who cares.

Damon is "resting" up in the driver's seat, which is Damon's word for closing his eyes but not really sleeping. Of course, alternately, when Damon is in his "invincible" mood, "resting" could mean being dead to the world for ten hours. Whichever. But this time, Stefan thinks that Damon's not asleep, because if he were, he would be tossing and turning. His brother never sleeps that well unless he's so tired he's in one of those ten-hours-of-sleep stages. And he's not that exhausted, Stefan knows. He knows his brother's limits, and his sleeping patterns, and he knows that Damon is just pretending to be asleep to possibly make him feel better.

It's about ten o'clock when Stefan gets off of his shift and he hesitantly leans over past Elena's sleeping form and shakes Jeremy awake. They'd all agreed—except for Damon, who wanted to go first—on the schedule: Stefan, Jeremy, Damon, Jenna, Elena, and Bonnie. All in one-hour shifts. Bonnie put up a small fight on the sexism of the whole thing, but Jenna just asked tiredly and kind of monotonously if she wanted to take first shift instead, which made Bonnie stop talking long enough for them (Stefan) to decide.

It's weird, but Stefan is oddly taking more control of this situation than he thought that he would. He wonders about the whole thing as his eyes close and he hears Jeremy whistling to himself: "Hey There Delilah." The Plain White T's. A not-recent song, but he recognizes it anyway.

_Delilah, I can promise you_

_That by the time we get through_

_The world will never ever be the same_

_And you're to blame…_

Just like that, Jeremy switches over suddenly to "It's the End of the World as We Know It" by R.E.M. The tune cheers Stefan up suddenly (something that Damon would say rarely happens, and takes a miracle to cause, even before these "dark days of zombies and shit," and yes, Stefan's quoting his brother) and he holds back a smile as Jeremy hums the chorus.

He falls asleep to Jeremy alternating between a song about a girl from New York City and the well-known melody about the end of the world.

* * *

It's almost one o'clock by the time that someone spots something. It's Jenna's turn to be awake, nearing the end of her shift, and she sees a small flickering light in the distance. She leans past Elena, who's still out cold, and shoves Stefan's shoulder, effectively waking him. "There's somebody up ahead. Think it's Liz's girl?" she whispers.

He shrugs. "I'll go check it out. Get Elena off of me, would you?"

Jenna helps him tug Elena over until she's resting against Jenna's shoulder instead, and Stefan tells Jenna to go to sleep, too. Then he exits the car, small electric lantern in one hand and gun in the other.

The approaching light turns out to be a flashlight. Held by a seventeen-ish blond teenager with a duffel bag thrown over her shoulder and a gun in her other hand. She's got blue eyes and Liz's facial structure—not to mention her hair—so Stefan holds his hands up in surrender. "Hey, hey, don't shoot," he tells her, and she hesitantly lowers the gun after she hears him speak: zombies don't talk, after all. (Not anything more than "brains.")

"What do you want?" she asks unsurely, and she sounds nothing like Liz, but that doesn't mean anything.

"Your mom sent me," he says, trying his best to be calming and trustworthy-looking.

She snorts. "Yeah, right. Jesus, I feel like I'm in the beginning of a Law & Order: SVU episode. 'Your mommy sent me, get into my nice black van—'" she gestures with a toss of her head to the SUV "'—and I'll give you a free puppy and some candy for good measure.'"

A smile flickering on his lips, Stefan nods. "Yeah. I figured you'd say that, so I got my info ready. You're Caroline Forbes. Liz's daughter. You lived with her until you were, what, ten? And then you moved in with your dad. You just came back. But then the end of the world started. Great time to move, by the way. Nice decision there. I'm here with my brother, my girlfriend, her brother, her aunt, and her best friend. You don't honestly think that many people would be involved in some sort of kidnapping thing, do you? And besides, we're in the middle of an apocalypse."

Her amused expression disappears quickly. "Thanks for the reminder. But you've successfully squished my doubts about you knowing my mom," she says with a sigh. "One question: where is she?"

He swears her eyes pierce into his soul. "Caroline, I—" he doesn't go on. He can't.

"Yeah, I figured that must have happened." She closes her eyes, lets out a deep and shaky breath. "It was the only possibility I really didn't want to consider. Well. This officially totally sucks." Her eyes reopen, clear blue but a little blurry with the tears that he can see she's fighting off. "Wh-where is she? Officially."

He turns his head away, but she won't meet his eyes anyway, so it doesn't even really matter. "My brother and I buried her in her backyard. We set up a cross in the backyard. She-she ended it. She wanted to be the one who pulled the trigger."

"That sounds like Mom," she breathes, and he catches her swiping furiously at her eyes with one of her hands out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah. So." Her voice is a little shaky, but it's commanding, and he meets her eyes obediently. "What's your name?"

With a small smile, Stefan tells her. "Stefan Salvatore. My brother, Damon, and I moved to Mystic Falls a while back. You've been with your dad, which is why we don't really know each other."

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, yeah, _that_ I figured out all by myself. Now could you please tell me who else is in the van? Names, please."

Because she said _please_, he rattles off the names. "Damon, my brother. Um. Elena Gilbert. Jeremy Gilbert. Jenna, their aunt. Bonnie Bennett. That's it." She startles a bit at the mention of Elena, but shakes it off and doesn't explain it. She doesn't show any other signs of astonishment at the other names.

Caroline eyes him. "Well, what do you want? I doubt six people piled into a car and waited for what was probably _hours_ just to tell a visiting girl that her mom got bitten by some carnivorous zombie freak. Is there something else?"

"We want you to…" he clears his throat. "We want you to come with us."

She stares at him, kind of shocked and maybe a little impressed. (The last part he's just hoping for.) There might even bit a hint of a smile on her face. There's a slight pause. "Fine," she says finally. "But I got blood in my hair a while ago; do you think maybe I could wash it somewhere? Somebody's sink or something?"

Stefan's surprised that she gave in this quietly. "Yeah. Yeah." He points backward, in the town's limits. "There's a little house about fifty feet from here. Here, I'll go with you. Just let me tell somebody where I'm going; we stick together, now, okay?" he proposes when she eyes him curiously. "I'll go tell Jenna, she should probably still be awake."

He raps on her window and she rolls it down, and he can see the blood shining in her hair when he raises his lantern, but it's dried by now and they can't wash it off until they get somewhere with some kind of soap or something. Not to mention, they need someone here to be awake while he and Caroline are gone, and nobody else is, so she can't go. "Caroline's here," he says, and Jenna nods sleepily. "I'm just gonna take her down to one of those little cottages to wash off a little. I just want to check for bites, too, though I doubt that she has any. We'll be back in about ten, twenty minutes."

Jenna just nods again and rolls her window back up. He walks back down, his gun ready in case one of those _things_ finds them, and takes Caroline down to some little cottage he noticed as they reached the town limits several hours ago. They break in—it's locked, which he didn't really expect, but that's easily fixable—with one of his shoes through the kitchen window, and they crawl in. There's glass on the floor and he can't find the light switch and it's freaking _dark_. He's never had a problem with the dark, really, but it messes with him that he doesn't know if there's anyone or any_thing_ else in there with them. Just to be safe, he keeps his gun at the ready in both hands, his lantern hanging by its handle on his wrist.

She stares at him for a second as they stand there, both eerily lit by the sick yellow unsettling glow of the lantern. For the first time, he really pays attention to her. Her hair is up in a messy ponytail and about half of it has come out and is hanging limply in front of her face, slightly curled by the humid air that's been threatening rain for several days. He can tell that her eyes are blue, and her hair is dark blonde with a few highlights of red—no, never mind, that's _blood_, and most definitely not her own—and she's wearing some comfortable jeans and a short-sleeved light pale (almost a subdued shade) blue top that's off-the-shoulder. Her sneakers are white and already are covered in dirt and maybe blood. He coughs and clears his throat and puts his shoe back on, checking the inside of it for shards of glass first. Then they maneuver around the kitchen until she finds the sink and submerges in it as soon as the cold water comes on. She shudders but doesn't come out from under it until he tells her that the blood's gone.

They search the house—her with her flashlight and handgun, him with his lantern and rifle—separately and come back later with a few different things. He's holding a video camera, a few maps, candles, and some CDs for the car. She has a few books for them all, some extra pairs of shoes, a few jackets, a box of matches, cigarettes, and a lighter. She's also wearing a new pair of gloves, black and fingerless that end at the first joints of her fingers, not going past the knuckles. He has a few more bullets and a bottle of wine, which she smiles at him for.

She holds up one more thing. It's a bottle of bourbon. "Does anybody drink this? 'Cause they'll have to share with me."

He smiles at her. "Damon is going to _love_ you. Or fight you over it. I can't tell yet. Anyway. We have everything else, I think. Toiletries in the car, some extra clothes for you that are Elena's, I think, um, some hair stuff that she wanted if you need some, I think we have an extra toothbrush for you, uh—"

"Relax, _Stefan Salvatore_," she says, stretching out the syllables of his name like she's testing it out. And he likes that about her. "I've got all that stuff in my duffel. Don't worry about that. I—I had time to pack when I left my dad's."

"Can I—can I ask what happened there?" he asks hesitantly. He doesn't know if it's his place. She's Liz's daughter, Elena's old friend, Bonnie's old friend, Jeremy's old acquaintance. But she's not his friend and he's not hers. They're just stuck together in this mess of a world. And maybe it's not his question to ask.

She doesn't answer right away. "I'd rather just say it once," she finally says in one breath, sounding heavy and tired and old. He wonders how much she's aged in the past few days. He wonders how much _he's_ aged in the past few days. "Maybe later, when everyone's awake?"

"Okay," he agrees immediately. No sense in pushing her. "Can I at least ask what happened to the taxi?"

"He has a family—had a family…I don't know," she says, stumbling over her words. "Anyway, we started getting reports on the radio and he wanted to go back to his family and we were already over halfway here and I had a gun my dad gave me before...before everything _really _started. So I told him to turn around, I'd walk the rest of the way, it would just take me a few hours and I had a light and everything. So he turned around." She sounds slightly wistful. "I hope he's okay. He was nice, you know, for a taxi driver. He didn't have hair growing out of his ears and he didn't chew gum annoyingly loud or anything. He didn't talk the whole time. The usual cabbie problems. He was all worried to be leaving me alone, said I was too young to have to walk all night alone in the dark with creatures or whatever prowling around."

Stefan shrugs. "I bet he's fine."

"Yeah. Me too. I hope so, anyway." She looks up at him, then back down at the handgun in her gloved hands. She seems unwilling to meet his eyes. "You know, you don't really have to do this."

"Do what?"

"Take care of me." Her eyes flash stubbornly and independently in the light of the sickly lantern light, all bright exotic-island-ocean blue being crossed with weak fading-gold yellow. "I don't need you to do that. I get that you're doing that out of—out of respect for my mother and her wishes, or whatever, or maybe because I'm Elena's old friend and Bonnie's too, but I don't need your help. You don't have to pretend that you want me with you."

He steps forward, reaches for her hand before he remembers that she's a fear-stricken girl with a dead mother and a gun, and pulls back at the last second before their hands would have touched. Which is probably a good thing, because she flinches anyway although he didn't even come close to brushing their skin together. "No, I…we do. Yeah, your mom asked us to, and we wouldn't have even known you were coming if she hadn't, but. Um. Look." He rubs the back of his neck, feeling suddenly awkward. Yeah, sure, he's more eloquent than Damon, but that doesn't mean he prepares _speeches_ or anything. (No matter what Damon says.) "Caroline and Bonnie miss you. I'm sure of that. You guys grew up together before you moved away with your dad when you were—what, ten? Yeah. And Jeremy, he remembers you, and he'd like to have you here. Jenna remembers you, too, and she wants you here. Damon, well, Damon doesn't really care, but he made a promise to your mother and Damon doesn't break his promises. Ever. And I…would really like to have you here."

She looks up at him, surprised, and then hides it quickly. She's almost as good as Damon at concealing her emotions. Almost. "Thank you. Stefan." She steps back quickly, as if reminding herself of something, and expertly tosses her gun between her hands. "Did you hear that?"

"No."

"Oh." She smiles. "Just nervous, I guess. It's dark and we're alone and…" she seems to struggle to remember something. "…and there's a bunch of zombies out there," she finally finishes lamely. "Can we go back to the car now? I'd rather have safety in numbers."

He nods, and the moment feels broken and foreign, but he can't understand why. After all, they're standing in a dark kitchen and her hair is soaked as she puts it back into a ponytail and the flashlight probably makes him look like something out of a horror movie, but is that—attraction that he feels in the air?

Oh, no. Not an option. So he pushes it away and says, "Yeah, let's go back to the car."

And they do, going on their way through the broken window again.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, so, I know. No Damon/Caroline interaction just yet. Wait for the next chapter. And, yeah, I added a little Steroline tension. Because I wanted to. Really, I ship them more as friends, and I believe that Stelena is better than Delena and all that, but I wanted to add a little tension. Cuz honestly? Caroline is one of those people who has chemistry with, like, _everybody_. Don't know if anything will come of it yet. Really. But I have the ending planned, okay? It's just about getting there. :)

I hoped you enjoyed it. Really, I'm working hard on this one, but since my computer and phone are no longer working and I won't be getting a new laptop for a few more weeks (I'm placing my trust in my boyfriend for this one, letting him choose my new one, which is probably a mistake, but oh well, as long as it works), it might be a while before updates. But rest assured, _THIS ONE IS GETTING FINISHED_.

So. Review? Tell me your likes, dislikes? Who should I elaborate more on? Do you want more Steroline interaction? Stelena? Jeremy/Bonnie? Anything, really. I will give you Jenna and Caroline friendship if that's what you need. In order to make up for killing off Liz. Because I LOVE THAT WOMAN. And I barely even gave her any screen time. It makes me so sad.

Review and feed my addiction! If you do, I shall feed your addiction with cookies. :)

Next chapter should be up soon, at any rate, whether there's reviews or not!


	2. of personal struggles

Disclaimer: So, if I owned VD I most definitely wouldn't be up at five o'clock in the morning posting this.

Also, question: Feel totally free to answer, loves. Should Jeremy be with Bonnie or Anna? Give me your honest opinion. I'm not saying it's about this story, it could be about any story. Also: Stelena or Stefan/Katherine? I'm relying on the opinions of you fantabulous peoples!

Enjoy the long-awaited Daroline interaction!

A/N: Oh, also: the POV kind of switches around a lot. It's pretty obvious, but I thought I should just give you guys a heads-up. Which reminds me: I've found I'm more inclined to write a guy's POV than a girl's. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. I mean, shouldn't I be better at girls? IDK, you know what, it doesn't even matter. Just answer my questions and enjoy! :)

* * *

_of fumbling passions, of personal struggles_

–Levi Kreis, "Left Over"

* * *

The next few seconds are spent in silence as they walk back to the car. There's no time for him to ask her anything, or for her to tell him anything.

They get back in the car and he crawls into the backseat. Elena somehow manages to drift over until she's sleeping on his shoulder once again, like an unconscious migration. Meanwhile, Caroline gets up in the front seat and by some means shoves Damon over into the passenger seat. Damon mumbles something and tosses onto his other side, like he usually does, but nobody wakes up. Caroline sits in the driver's seat and turns on the ignition. It's warm outside, it being summer and all, so they've left the car off for now, needing neither AC nor heat. "We wanna go right now, right? As soon as possible?" she asks Stefan quietly, careful not to wake anyone up.

He nods. "Yeah, but—"

She starts driving, and amazingly the engine wakes up no one, not even Damon, who is the lightest sleeper that Stefan has ever known. He watches her as well as he can in the fading light of his lantern—it's on the lowest setting possible—and beyond Bonnie's seat. She looks grim, from what he can tell, but who wouldn't? Her hair is drying already into soft curls in her ponytail, from what he can see in the dimly-lit rear view mirror, and her eyes are determined on the road as they navigate their way slowly out of town.

(Elena's breathing on his shoulder reminds him to look away.)

"You sure you want to be driving right now?" he asks quietly. "It's late."

He can hear her softly snickering. "I've been awake for the past three days straight," she says. "Trust me. I probably shouldn't be, and I may not be as soon as we stop someplace, but for the moment I am _wide awake_. Really. It'll be fine. Besides, who else is gonna drive? El's asleep on your shoulder there, Bon's out cold, Gilbert Junior's sleeping too, as is Aunt Jen, and looks like your brother's as asleep as he's gonne get. I'm wired for now. I'll be all right."

"You sure?"

That same snicker again. "I stole some coffee from a gas station I passed about ten miles away from here. Cold, crappy coffee, but still. It does the job. Tell you what. We'll stop at a hotel or something, whatever works, make sure it's empty, and I'll steal the first clean bed and collapse. We'll crash there for a while." She's silent for a moment. "So, uh…do we really have a destination?"

He bites his lip. "Sort of, kinda. Yeah. Jenna's boyfriend was down at a local college in Florida when this all happened. We wanna pick him up. So, yeah. We're heading way down south. Jenna's traveled down there before, says it should take about fifteen, sixteen hours if we take no breaks. Of course, that's not accounting for weather and all the cars or trees we might have to move that would be blocking the road."

"You forgot zombies," she snorts. "Gonna have to take out some of those, too."

"I didn't think it needed mentioning."

She pauses. "Yeah, you're probably right." She sighs. "So…how did you and your brother get dragged into this thing? Why didn't you two just strike out on your own?"

Stefan worries his bottom lip between his teeth again. "I guess we wouldn't be here if it weren't for me dating Elena."

Caroline doesn't say anything, but he detects a slight deceleration in the car, as if she's lightly let go of the gas, or perhaps pressed more firmly on the brake. But the speed soon returns back to normal and she clears her throat. "You're dating Elena? That's, that's nice. Elena. She's a great girl. She's dependable, you know, smart. Sweet. Always trying to protect everybody." She shakes her head. "She really shouldn't, though. That's gonna get her into trouble someday."

He smiles a little, but it's humorless now. Something's dampened the mood but he doesn't want to think about what. "Yeah, I think you're right. It probably will."

"Congrats."

"I think the time's long passed for congrats, it's been nearly two years now."

She snickers. "Wow, you guys really did move to town just after I left."

Content to watch a bit of scenery, he doesn't reply just yet, instead watching the wildlife and nature itself as it passes quickly by the window. The trees are a blur and the grass is little more than a dull green lit up by the headlights. He turns back to his girlfriend, watching her sleep on his arm, and thinks about the attraction between him and Caroline. She seems smart, witty, nice, capable, and definitely hardworking.

But she's not Elena. She's not generous and she can never hope to be as forgiving. She doesn't have Elena's heart-shaped face or her chocolate-colored hair or her caramel eyes. She doesn't have her thin lips or her small nose or her delicate jaw. She probably wouldn't fall asleep on his arm, and she wouldn't be his unofficial therapist, and she already knows how to use a gun. Unlike Elena.

So, yes. She's great, Caroline. _If she'd still been here when Damon and I have moved here…_

But she wasn't, and Elena was.

He watches a raccoon streak past them, startled by the lights on the car, and looks up at the front seat, where Caroline is determinedly driving the car as far down south as possible before she needs to crash. "What?" he asks distractedly, aware that she'd said something a few moments ago.

"I said you guys must have moved to town just after I left. Strange, huh?" she says, with a laugh that almost sounds forced.

And he looks down at his girlfriend, whose hair is free and loose and her face slack but still somehow even more beautiful in sleep. "Strange but perfect," he murmurs, and he moves a stray strand of hair behind Elena's ear. She shifts but doesn't wake.

But somehow he still can't ignore the tension in the air.

* * *

Though he hadn't planned to do so, he somehow falls asleep with his hand still touching Bonnie's. He doesn't know exactly what's going on with them. Until recently, they've always just been friends, with her like another big annoying sister to him and him like an irritating little brother to her.

But the fact is that everything seems to be changing with this zombie apocalypse.

And…maybe not all of it's so bad.

But not the point. He falls asleep, which was not his intention, and he wakes up to a fist lightly poking/punching him in the shoulder. He stirs, opens his eyes, and greets a brand new face.

Um…_wow_.

His first impression? The face of an angel. She has blonde hair swirling around her face in soft little curvy tendrils. Her eyes are a light blue, like frozen crystal that's slowly being warmed over. Her hands are delicate and her fingers painted a bright purple nail polish. Her skin is pale, like extra whitened porcelain for a fragile china doll. But she looks anything but fragile. In fact, her expression is rather determined, and she's standing in front of him, the car door open. She's standing outside, and the car's off. She must have turned it off sometime and flung open the door so she could wake somebody.

He scans around, and nobody else is awake.

"You were the closest one," she says, and he nods. "Hi, I'm Caroline. You've probably been expecting me. You're really Jeremy, right? God, you look older."

"Um…yeah." He remembers a patronizing girl with blonde hair and blue eyes that was a friend of Elena's from when he was a kid—he must've been around eight when she'd moved away. But she didn't have the look of an angel _then_. And now he's speechless.

"Okay, good. Stefan said we should stop when I felt tired. And I'm just now kind of realizing that I'm exhausted. So I pulled up to the nearest hotel. So it's almost eight in the morning and if I've done my math right we're about a third of the way there. But I figured that was good enough for one night, and I'm really about to fall asleep on my feet." She's probably rambling. He doesn't really notice.

He struggles for a second to remember the words. "Um, yeah. Okay. Have you cleared the hotel out yet?"

"Not yet. I figure, safety in numbers. So maybe you and I could go together?"

_Oh my god. Send me into a close confined space with a Swedish model, why don't you? Add in zombies and it's practically the same thing._

He swallows. "Uh, sure." He suddenly feels Bonnie's fingers intertwining in his own, almost painfully so, and he disentangles her grip quickly. She turns onto her side in her sleep but doesn't open her eyes, so he guesses they're all still asleep and safe. "Can we lock the car? I don't want any zombies crashing in on a bunch of sleeping people. Aunt Jenna's already PTSD'd enough."

She grins. "Got it covered."

With a matching brave smile, he covers his shyness as he scrambles out of the car. She locks it and sticks the keys into her jeans pocket. "They shouldn't wake up in the next five minutes," she says, "but if they do, I'd rather they were freaked out to be missing two than waking up to get eaten by zombies." She cocks her gun and he clings to his baseball bat, which is still kind of bloody, and they enter the hotel.

It's small, only two stories, and it looks kind of abandoned—but then, what doesn't nowadays? The walls are made of brick, which is good, and there are no fire escape ladders, which is both good and bad, she knows. It's good because some of the zombies might be smart enough to figure out how to climb a ladder—though the odds are pretty against that, anyway—but bad because there's no emergency escape route if necessary. They'll just have to hope that they don't need it.

After scouring both of the floors, including the small check-in room, the elevator, the stairs, and then every single room (there's only twenty, ten per floor—how much business could they have gotten, he thinks), they exit the hotel. "No zombies," she says with a sigh of relief. "I mean, I stopped at this town because it had a small population count, but I figured there'd be at least one. This is good, right?"

He nods, tongue stuck in his throat. He forces it out. "Yeah. It's great. Should we wake the rest of them up?"

Caroline nods. "Yeah, let's do that. Tell you what, you take the three of them in the backseat and I'll take your girlfriend and Mr. Sunshine in the passenger seat. God, he talks in his sleep, annoyed me all night long," she complains, and Jeremy suppresses a smile.

_Sounds like Damon, most definitely_, the teenager thinks. He doesn't know his big sister's boyfriend's older brother—whoa, that was complicated—_that_ well, but he knows that Damon loves to be difficult. Sounds just like him to bother everyone even when he's sleeping.

Elena and Jenna are awakened easily, having slept a lot that night, as is Stefan, who he guesses is a light sleeper. Bonnie's also woken up by Caroline without difficulty. They all clamber out of the car, with Elena sleepily holding onto Stefan lightly by one arm. Stefan looks alert but weary, and Jenna seems wide awake and rather jumpy. It's only Damon who's still left asleep.

"Just smack him on the shoulder," Stefan finally says when they all get tired of standing around in an abandoned parking lot. "That should wake him up."

Caroline gives him a well-deserved slap to the shoulder—his mumblings did _not_ help her concentrate on her driving last night, thank you _very_ much—and he stirs, finally opening his eyes. They're a dark blue. Almost mesmerizing.

But she draws back and breaks eye contact as he sits up and unbuckles his seat belt, climbing out of the car and wincing at the sunlight. "Guess you're Caroline, huh?" he asks, his tone…well, not exactly nice. He stretches his arms out, and she cringes at the sound of his shoulder muscles popping.

"Guess you're Damon, huh?" she snaps back. (She hasn't slept in three and a half days. Forgive her for being a little sharp.)

His eyes travel her up and down. "You do look kind of like Liz," he admits begrudgingly. It's true. Same hair color, similar facial patterns, even a comparable body figure to what he's seen in pictures of a teenage Liz—something which she definitely did not have a lot of in quantity because she was "embarrassed" by the pictures or something. (_Was hair the size of a beach ball really that popular back then_? he wonders, having seen the pictures himself only once.)

With a tired sigh, she sticks her hands on her hips, leaving her gun dangling by two of her fingers. "Can we go inside now, please? I'd love to play the it's-nice-to-meet-you game," she retorts, "but I'm about to be dead on my feet and you're kind of making me wish that it would happen faster."

He snickers. "Yup, you _act_ just like Liz." He stands up fully, and his knees make a cracking sound which makes even Stefan flinch. (Jenna most of all, but nobody mentions it.)

"Can we go now?" she demands.

Reaching back into his seat, he pulls out his bags and the cooler. "Yeah, sure, let's go in. Zombie-free, I assume?"

"For now," she says darkly, and they go inside.

* * *

They're all seated in the biggest room there is, sharing in the heat of the fire (it's starting to get colder outside, and not everybody wears leather black jackets and black boots, meaning everyone except Damon is starting to freeze) that Stefan made and talking about small things.

"So," Damon interrupts as snidely as possible, "tell us about your deep, dark, secret, scary past, Blondie."

"Really original, badass. Well," she says, as mildly as possible considering the fact that she feels like she's about to die from lack of sleep—she _snarls_ it, by the way—now that the adrenaline rush has worn off, "is everyone listening? I'm only telling it once."

Stefan leans back from his conversation with Elena, interested. He recalls that she wouldn't share her past with just him—she needed everyone to know so she'd only have to tell it once.

Jenna draws back from Jeremy, who, as per usual now, is staring in fascination at Caroline. (Damon is _so_ gonna tease him about it later, when Caroline's not commanding for their attention.)

Elena is suddenly pulling away from Stefan, and he doesn't know why, but there's a slightly guilty look on her face, and he imagines that Caroline's story will clear that up presently. Meanwhile, Caroline is sitting up on the couch, her arms wrapped around her legs, chin resting on her knees. She looks like the epitome of a girl trying to collapse in on herself—someone trying to forget, someone trying to fade away and not exist anymore. And he feels sorry for her.

But she straightens up her spine and looks at them all with her piercing icy blue glare, which is probably only rivaled by Damon's cold stare, and she clears her throat. "Okay, fine. Who here knows the full story?" she asks monotonously. She sounds bored, like she doesn't really care.

(Even Damon knows better, and he sucks at reading girls.)

Elena and Bonnie tentatively raise their hands. Well. Looks like everyone else is in the dark.

"Well, then," she sighs. "I'd better get started."

* * *

Damon doesn't really particularly _care_ about Barbie, per se. Sure, he made a promise to Liz, and yes, she's hot, but she's also kind of a bitch and her story means very little to him.

But then he starts to listen, and it starts to mean more.

"I was ten when I moved away from Mystic Falls," she says. "I had a bad argument with my mom and I really just didn't care what happened with her after that, so I left and went to live with my dad. I didn't come back for five years.

"When I came back, nothing much really happened to me. I was getting along better with my mom, which was good, but we were really distant, both living in the same house but also being a million miles away from each other emotionally. I was rebuilding my friendship with Elena and Bonnie, which was weakened after I moved away—" she gestures to the two other girls with a toss of her hair and a fragile smile "—and then I started going out with this guy. Tyler Lockwood.

"He was different. Kind of an asshole but in a really endearing way. He was funny, and cute, and I really liked him, and he liked me too. His family was moving to where my dad lives—lived. So we could keep up the relationship if I went back to my dad's, which I didn't really want because I was getting along better with my mom, but like any girl, I chose love over family." She sighs. "Anyway. It was all getting along great. I didn't want to leave Mystic Falls, but I didn't see any other way."

She narrows her eyes a tiny bit. "Then it all kind of came crashing down."

Elena interrupts. "Can I say this part? If it's gonna be told…well, I'd rather it came from me."

Caroline shrugs. "Makes no difference to me."

"Okay," Elena says, kind of shakily, looking to Stefan for something—encouragement? Support? Something. So he nods and she finally spits it out. "Tyler kissed me."

"You kissed back," Caroline says harshly, and they've obviously had this argument a dozen times. But she calms herself down and looks at Elena. "It doesn't matter anyway. You said he kissed you, he said you kissed him, I didn't know what to believe. My friendship with Elena was ruined no matter what. I just didn't trust her enough anymore. And Bonnie took Elena's side in it all—"

There's an unspoken _Of course _in the air, but she ignores it and continues. Bonnie looks down.

"—so I left Mystic Falls as soon as I could. I was still with Tyler when this all started. We'd been dating for two years." She winces. "Our anniversary was last week. So. We were out celebrating when the news really started piling up. Zombie outbreaks, people eating at each other, that sort of thing. People started thinking, you know, we should all get somewhere safe. And Mystic Falls is—was—whatever—a small town, so I figured I could go there and be safer. I didn't want to leave my family and my friends, but my dad made me go.

"Just as I was about to leave—the morning of, actually—my dad had called a taxi and we were standing outside when he got bitten. We went inside to take care of it and he…turned. Of course," she says with a sneer Damon suspects is directed at herself, "we had no idea what was going on, the news hadn't gotten that far along yet. So I started disinfecting it and I left him alone for maybe ten, twenty minutes to go find gauze. I came back and he was practically foaming at the mouth. He rushed at me and I shot him with his own shotgun. I barely even got him, and he was somehow so close.

"His boyfriend came in with his daughter, and they'd both been bitten too. And I knew what was going to happen. They both wanted to die human, so I shot them as well. In between the eyes. So." She shrugs. "I guess I was in shock or something, I went around packing like there weren't three dead bodies in my living room and everything was just fine. My taxi pulled up an hour later and I got in with my duffel bag and my gun. He started driving, I made him leave me so he could get back to his family." She shrugs again. "And now I'm here with you people, and Jeremy, you need to shut your gaping mouth before your jaw freezes like that and you look like a fucking dumbass for the rest of your short, short life."

Jeremy closes his mouth with a look of shock on his face still, though Damon imagines it's both from the story and the harsh words.

Caroline looks mostly untouched by the story, but even Damon can see that underneath that layer of coldness lingers a little girl who killed her own father in self-defense when he tried to _eat_ her. He looks at her with something that's probably akin to pity, and she must see it because she looks vaguely, faintly horrified and she snaps at him, "I'm going to bed, I haven't slept in _four fucking days_," and stalks off, leaving everyone reeling in the aftermath of her own little horror story.

* * *

Damon sighs right after he sits on the bed. He and Stefan are paired up for the night. Bonnie and Elena are sharing a room as well, as are Jenna and Caroline. Jeremy's on his own for the night, but he'll be fine. Besides, from the sound of the room next door, it seems like Jeremy's having a talk with his aunt anyway—and it sounds like she's telling him to leave Caroline alone. (_Nice_, he thinks.) Leaving Caroline in her bed. Asleep. And alone.

Suddenly, the thought of visiting Caroline doesn't seem so bad. Now he has two reasons to do so: to make sure some zombie didn't escape her sight and is now chomping on her brains; and to make sure they get a proper introduction. She's Liz's daughter. It would be better if they could get off on the right foot this time.

(_Even if she is a cranky little bitch_.)

So he wanders out of the room he's sharing with Stefan and down the hall to hers. He approaches her door and he can hear some sounds coming out her door—high-pitched, almost keening sounds. For a second he thinks there's a puppy crying in there or something—or maybe baby Gilbert, one can never tell—but then…

"I'm so _sorry_, Daddy," he hears a small voice whisper, and for a second his chest tightens and his feelings for her soften. Just for a second...no, wait...

Make that more than a second.

Make that for about twenty damn straight minutes, because that's how long he listens to her cry. And he doesn't know what to do. Is he supposed to go in there? Is he supposed to comfort this girl who acts like she hates him?

_Is he supposed to just leave her to cry all by herself?_

Before he can lose the courage, he raises up his hand to knock on the door. But he doesn't yet. He waits for five seconds, inahling.

"_Tyler_," she bites out in a harsh sob that probably hurts her throat, and breaks out into a new outbreak of gasping breaths. God, she's certainly not a quiet crier, is she.

(He tries to convince himself to be just a little bit nicer to her. She's lost nearly everything.)

He knocks.

There's a fierce scrambling inside, and when she opens the door two and a half minutes later, her eyes are a little bloodshot. But her face isn't splotchy and her voice sounds normal when she demands to know why he's there. "What the fuck do you want, Salvatore?"

If he hadn't heard her, he'd think she's just sleep-deprived with her red eyes. If he hadn't listened to her crying her eyes out, he wouldn't know she'd been crying at all.

"Just…" he says, his words trailing off and leaving him defenseless.

She raises up her walls and he can practically see her hiding behind them, hoping he won't knock them down.

She makes herself look, act, maybe even (to a certain extent) _feel_ stronger, and he knows she won't do anything if he tries to console her except push him away. And never let it be said that Damon doesn't know when to go (and leave the person to be weak on their own, like they want) and when to stay (and let that person cry on his shoulder). And at the moment, she wants—no, _needs_—the former. She needs to convince herself that she looks strong to everyone, even him.

And she really _really_ needs some sleep, which she probably won't get if he's there watching her.

So he just smiles weakly at her. "Wondered if you had some hair gel. Stefan's being a little girl because his bottle's empty, and his hair doesn't get that roll-out-of-bed look _naturally_, you know? He's super conscious about his looks."

Caroline rolls her eyes (she knows he's joking but she doesn't care enough to correct him) and turns away and walks off and leaves the door wide open, but he doesn't look, doesn't invade what she's claimed as her half of the room. He hears a bit of shuffling and some rummaging through her duffel, and she comes back with some hair gel. "It's nearly empty," she warns, "but I don't really use it—it was Tyler's, so." Her eyes are tinged with hurt and have a glazed-like look to them.

"I'll make sure there's still some left when I bring it back to you," he says softly, not really meaning to be so gentle with his words around her.

She stiffens her spine and narrows her suddenly icy cold blue eyes at him, frozen over like a lake or maybe a heart, and she shuts the door in his face. "Don't bother," she calls out, but he knows that he will anyway.

Maybe not quite the _best_ way to start a friendship, but then, there are worse.

(And he hears the quiet, "Thanks," she whispers from behind the door as he leaves. Pretends he doesn't hear it. That's what she needs.)

* * *

A/N: So, my promised Daroline action! I hope you guys liked it! Sorry it ended on such a sad note, but hey, love is all about pain before the joy, right? Otherwise, why else are romances in existence?

Anyways, so, I have discovered that I now have this burning all-consuming fiery passion for Klaroline. Which I did not know that I had it in me. I thought I liked him okay, but this passionate love had not yet been discovered. But then I found Joseph Morgan on YouTube and his accent and it does things to my insides and I am so NEVER going back, all right. OMG WTF so now I love him, okay. And I probably shouldn't, because I already love Damon and one bad boy's probably enough in my life, but hey, the heart wants what the heart wants right. But OOOHHHHH MY GOD HE'S SO PRETTY. (Both of them are.)

So, you guys, Elena and Tyler made out when they were fifteen and that caused the Elena/Caroline friendship breakup! Not quite as dramatic as some of you probably planned, right? But I've been there. (I was the one being cheated on, loves, I would never kiss a friend's bf. Mostly because my friends have bad taste, jk.) And to a fifteen year old, that's super dramatic and it really hurts and that probably would cause a rift between you that lasted for two years...or until the apocalypse, whichever came first. :D

You guys give me feedback, okay? And answer my two questions up above in the beginning of this chapter! I can't decide. :)

Review! And I totally love you guys, so, thanks for reading this!


	3. we must first make amends

Disclaimer: Don't own VD. If I did...well. -_- Let's not get into that. I don't like to indulge in fantasies, it makes me sad to have to come back to reality. :'(

A/N: Right, I meant to correct something I said earlier. I NEVER meant to insinuate that Klaroline would play a part in this story. It won't. I was just stating my passionate neverending love with Joseph Morgan now, because JoMo is AWESOME. His accent...like I said, it does things to my insides. *shudder* Anyway. No Klaroline for you people, you guys are all decidedly my Daroline fans. :)

Also, I tried my best to please requests while also sticking to my plan, so if I didn't, my apologies. :)

Thanks to VampCaroline, .eyes.90, AmyFrancis, pariswindspeed, Mariagoner, xsinsofglassx, CaraSalvatore, LaLaALa521, DarolineKlaroline, CrazyLioness6, xWrittenInTheStarsx, LoveandWinning, DamonLover86, CarolineSalvatore, XDarkParadiseX, starzee, jopline, VampCaroline, BelleinWonderland, TeamStefanBitches, Nicaha23, recklesssouls, my anon reviewers, and anyone else whose name I haven't put up. You guys are _awesome_, believe you me. :) Thank you for all the support.

Also: a lot of people asked for Caroline/Elena and Caroline/Jenna time. I gave you people both. I expect cookies for this. JK. :) Enjoy.

* * *

_we must first make amends_

–Ed Sheeran, "Spark"

* * *

It's a restless night, and she isn't sleeping well. She hasn't slept at all in days, and her body's so used to being awake that she can't get herself to sleep. So she wanders into the kitchen-of-sorts around midnight and finds herself not-quite-alone.

There's a dark-haired, mysterious-eyed, exotic-looking teenager in there with her, and Caroline is _not_ pleased with fate's twisted sense of humor. Damon would have been better. Damon, who annoyed the living piss out of her, and Damon, who probably knew she'd been crying. Even _he_ would have been better than—

"Hi," Elena says, looking surprised (she probably is—Caroline's learned to be silent these days, more for self-preservation than anything, so she probably didn't hear her coming). She stirs a spoon in her mug of hot chocolate. "I couldn't sleep. You?"

"Physically unable," she says as shortly as she can. She's sharp, so what. Elena should learn to get over it. "I need coffee, is what I need."

Elena looks her up and down. "You _need_ sleep, is what you need." She blinks a few times, purses her lips, and digs into the pockets of her hoodie sweatshirt (which is probably Stefan's because it looks to be a few sizes too large, but Caroline tries her best to ignore that). "I think I have some sleeping pills in here somewhere…"

She pulls out car keys (to what car, Caroline has no idea), lipstick, nail polish, a half-empty container of blue and white tic tacs, a plastic fake diamond ring, and a packet of artificial sugar before she finds what she's looking for: a mostly-full orange bottle. "They taste disgusting, but I'll swear you'll be out in, like, five minutes," Elena blathers on as she hands Caroline the pill bottle, completely unaware of the awkwardness between them—or maybe she is, and she's just pretending, but Caroline wouldn't know because Caroline has never really known the _truth_ about her and Elena. "Just take two every six hours or more, but it should put you out for eight hours. If you take more than two in six hours then you run the risk of—"

"I've taken sleeping pills before," Caroline tells her. "I've got it."

"Oh." Elena bites her lip. "When? If I can ask, that is."

Caroline shrugs. "When I left Mystic Falls for the second time, it was kind of hard getting over you and Tyler and that…_thing_." She flaps her arms around, searching for a term to describe it best. "I don't know. It wasn't for long, I wasn't, like, an insomniac or anything. I just had a little bit of trouble staying asleep sometimes, and my dad is—was friends with the local pharmacist. So."

Elena is quiet for a long pause. "Did I really do that you?"

Her voice is soft and shy and scared and she won't look up from her feet and Caroline shouldn't pity her but she does.

"No," Caroline says. "You both did. And I got over it. We were fifteen. I went on to have a happy relationship with Tyler—" she bites her lip "—and I moved on from it. He did, too. We were stupid kids and so what if I slept two hours a night for a couple of weeks. It just…" she sighs. "It just happened, is all. Just like this zombie shit. You can't explain it and you can't fix it or go back to the way that it was. Just…keep going forward."

Elena looks down again, her eyes wide and impossibly brown. "So…what are we, now?"

"To be honest? I don't know. This is like some cliché Lifetime movie." She barks out a laugh that's humorless. "God, what I wouldn't give for a Lifetime Original movie. Those things sucked so badly, but I'd kill for _Too Young to Marry_* right now."

"I'm with you there." Elena grins. "Hey, do you remember when you and Bonnie and I spent the whole night watching cheesy Lifetime and ABC family movies—"

"—the night before tenth grade exams? Yeah!" Caroline exclaims, laughing. "I nearly bombed the math test, and of course Bonnie did excellent like she always does. I think you fell asleep during the English exam, didn't you?"

"Mrs. Graham was so mad! She hit me with a yardstick and said it was an accident. But I know that bitch meant to hit me." Elena smirks. "She totally hated me before that, though."

Caroline grins. "That was right before I—"

"—found out," Elena completes the sentence for her, smile vanishing.

Caroline's smile disappears also. "I was gonna say 'left,' but…yeah. Both of those."

"So…" Elena stares at her feet. "Yeah." She heaves out a sigh. "Just think of it. A few years ago—not even two yet, really—we were best friends. And I totally messed that up."

Dragging her feet, Caroline snatches the pill bottle from Elena's hand. "I'm not gonna talk to you about this anymore," she declares, tossing her messy blond ponytail over her shoulder. "This was two years ago. Tyler…isn't here anymore to put a pressure on our friendship. And we might not be—" she winces. "We might not be _best friends_ anymore, but I'm a big girl now and I can handle what happened two years ago. God knows that I've handled worse. So. I will be friends with you, and Bonnie."

Elena's eyes look unbelievably hopeful. "Really?"

"Yes. Really." Caroline catches her eye. "Just tell me one thing."

Sighing, Elena shoves her hands into the pocket of her hoodie. "I already know what you're going to ask."

"Then you can answer it honestly."

When she reopens her eyes with a sigh, she looks old. And no seventeen year old should look this old, except Elena does because Elena has always been the one who ages faster emotionally. And Elena has always been good at being the person who makes you feel bad for wanting to know something she doesn't want you to find out.

So Caroline represses that guilty feeling, because she knows Elena's tricks that she usually doesn't really _mean_ to perform, and waits for the truth.

"Tyler kissed me first." Elena's quiet. "We were in the party together, and he was a little tipsy. But I wasn't. And I kissed him back. And then you walked in and he sobered up really quickly." She lets a wistful smile play on her lips. "It was my fault and his. Both of us were to blame, Care, probably equally so."

"Please don't call me that," Caroline says, but her voice isn't as harsh as usual. There's a long hiatus before she takes a deep breath and responds sadly, "I want to be friends with you again, Elena—for the sake of everyone else, we should be able to at least _pretend_ that we like each other. And I think that, for once, I believe you about Tyler. I think the whole no-sleep-for-four-days thing probably had an effect on that." She chuckles, but her smile ceases to be quickly. "So I'll talk to you, Elena, and laugh when you're funny and talk seriously when you want to. I'll be your friends, for all intents and purposes. And one day I might even forgive you fully, because it's the goddamn zombie apocalypse and to not talk to you would be outright childish. For all I know, you and I are two of the only ten or so living people on the planet. So it would be idiotic not to speak to you.

"I will be your friend, and I will try to forgive you, Elena. But please don't force me to, and don't apologize incessantly, because I _know_ you, Elena, and I know your techniques, and I know that that's exactly what you'll do. You'll force in girl time every half hour for us, and half of it you'll spend saying sorry for something that I don't even want to care about anymore." She takes in a deep breath, and before Elena can spoil it all by protesting, she says, "I want to forget about it. All of it. Everything. I don't want to have to remember anything to do with Tyler. Ever. Again."

She flashes a bright smile, one that's clearly fake to those who know her (and Damon, whom she suspects somehow understands her anymore, and what the fuck does that mean if she's becoming _that_ transparent, that almost total strangers can read her). "I don't want to remember Tyler. Period."

Elena speaks for the first time in quite a while, and she sounds horrified. "Caroline, what did you _see _to make you want to—"

"When I left my father's town," Caroline interrupts. "I saw people running after each other. Some of them were human and some of them weren't. And the taxi I was in got attacked by people that I had to shoot, people that I knew, that I cared about—some of them I _loved_." Her voice catches. "And I don't want to remember that. So, as far as I'm concerned, we're still friends. Maybe not best friends, but friends. As long as you don't mention Tyler to me again. Okay?"

Elena clearly looks dissatisfied and maybe scared, both by the proposal and the scenarios running in her head as to _what_ Caroline must have seen to make her so sad and terrified at the thought of Tyler coming up in a public conversation.

"All right."

Caroline turns away and pops two of the pills in her mouth. She swallows them dry. "Great. I'm going back to bed." She looks over her shoulder as she's walking away and smiles at Elena—a small, thoughtful, almost _regretful_ smile. "Don't let your boyfriend go, by the way. He might be _the_ nicest person I have ever met."

And then she returns to her room and goes to sleep holding Tyler's favorite CD—tucked firmly in her duffel bag—to her chest, clutching it with both hands. Leaving Elena, pensive and alone with a cup of now-cold hot chocolate.

* * *

They leave in the morning at around eleven, with Jenna grumpy but alert and Damon annoyed but ready.

In fact, it's only Stefan and Bonnie who _aren't_ really all that alert, which is probably why she's the one caught mostly off-guard.

They're loading everyone's separate bags into the trunk of the SUV—Damon only picked it because it's "badass"—when the sole zombie comes upon them. There's only a slight moaning noise as their warning before Bonnie, in the back of the group, gets knocked down by a handless brain-eating machine.

The entire group swivels around to see Bonnie, looking terrified and unable to move, on her back with a zombie straddling her, its mouth open wide as it prepares to bite—

And she's splattered by brain matter and blood as the zombie's skull caves in, thanks to the swinging bat in Jeremy's hands.

Jeremy stares at the bat in his hands before dropping it to the sidewalk with a clatter and shoving the zombie by the shoulders off of Bonnie. He ends up stumbling and falling in the zombie's previous position—on his knees, straddling her hips. And brown locks on brown as they stare at each other.

"Let me gag first," Damon says. "Come on, come on, you two can hang all over each other and maybe even get nasty in the back when everyone else is asleep and doesn't have to _watch_. Hey, if there's one zombie around there's probably more, and it probably was attracting by the sound of us moving everything. Let's go before more get here. Come _on_. Jesus. Baby Gilbert, Bonbon, let's move it before one of us gets killed."

Jeremy backtracks quickly until he's sitting on the pavement. He stands up and reaches out, helping Bonnie stand.

"Thanks," she breathes as they unconsciously get so close that it should be illegal.

And angels are the second-to-last thing on Jeremy's mind, in front of how his mother would react to seeing him this close to a girl. The second thought on his mind is his idea to shut Damon up with some duct tape and maybe never let him talk again. The first thought is the soft curl to Bonnie's hair, and how pretty it looks when the sun is just barely shining on this gray, dreary day...

"You're welcome." He shines a grin at her, and she returns one as well. She gets ever closer and then—

"Come _on_, Baby Gilbert, everybody else is all loaded up in the van, if you don't mind. You can make goo goo eyes at your girly later."

Scratch that, shutting Damon Salvatore up is the _first _thing on his mind.

He reluctantly lets Bonnie go and climbs into the very back, where he's wedged between a beaming Bonnie and Jenna, with a curious raised eyebrow and a half-smirk. Meanwhile, Stefan's driving with Elena in the passenger seat and Damon and Caroline are stuck in the middle. Damon turns to his left, away from her, and she to her right, crossing her legs to physically get as far away from him as possible.

But Jeremy doesn't care, because Jenna falls asleep about twenty minutes in and that's when Bonnie slips her hand quietly into his and he can't stop grinning.

* * *

They get out of the car about two hours later—about halfway there, now, more or less—because there's a fallen tree on this back road. They're trying to stay off the highway, where there are bound to be more stopped and/or crashed cars as well as many more undead. As it is, this is the first real obstacle they've come across and they haven't seen a zombie since the one that tried to sink his teeth in Bonnie.

Nobody has the heart to wake Jenna up—she doesn't seem to be sleeping well as it is and there are dark circle under her eyes that are accentuated by her lack of makeup, making her look wan and tired even in her sleep. She's tossing and turning in the backseat, and she keeps waking up temporarily and drifting back off, her eyes wide and panicked. It actually scares some of them, but they figure leaving her to sleep is probably for the best. So they leave her in the back of the car, and Stefan locks it before they all start pushing.

The tree isn't that heavy or big and it doesn't take long to move it before they discover three cars, all stopped within thirty or forty feet of each other, left in the middle of the road. Two are connected, probably crashed together, a class fender bender. Damon appropriately mourns the loss of the SUV in the back, as it seems that the front of the car cannot be repaired and probably wouldn't be a great steal.

But, Stefan reminds him, their SUV works just fine.

"Screw that, I want a new one," Damon complains.

"You'll live," Caroline tells him, and shoves him in the direction of the Buick in the front, taunting him by not letting him touch the SUV, which apparently is the kind he likes or something? She doesn't even pretend to want to know.

The third car, completely empty, is some kind of government issued bulletproof army car, probably stolen by some random citizen in a last-ditch attempt to get away safely. Which didn't work. So, all the effort is in vain. The car would work, but it doesn't have enough seats and zombies can almost never get through non-bulletproof glass as it is, so there's really no point in taking it. Damon pries the trunk open (more like he shoots the handle off, but hey, whatever works) and finds a duffel bag of military-issued guns, with several bullets.

"Yes!" he crows, taking the duffel and shoving in the general direction of Baby Gilbert. "My day has been made. Hey, Blondie, help me move this thing, will you."

They take on the giant car together with Stefan providing support as Jeremy and Bonnie wander back to the SUV together, talking as he puts the bag of guns in the trunk with the rest of their things. Meanwhile, Elena watches closely, though Stefan tells her not to worry, they can move the car, they just need a second to get a good grip on it.

They have a better grasp on the way to move the car a moment later and Caroline and Damon shove it from the back as Stefan hotwires and attempts to steer it off the road.

Ten or twenty minutes later, they have the car in the roadside ditch and Caroline and Damon are panting but satisfied. They can move on now. They return to the car together, with Elena marveling at Stefan's hotwiring skills that he didn't even know he possessed until fifteen minutes ago. When they get back in the car, they decide to switch positions, because staring at the same piece of the car can get B-O-R-I-N-G.

Bonnie, Jeremy, and Elena all volunteer to take the backseat—though Elena probably most likely does it to keep an eye on her overly-amorous-lately brother (what the hell happened to the days where all he cared about was video games and running _away_ from girls?)—while Damon and Stefan take the middle seats. They shove a stumbling but hyper-vigilant Jenna, who's still uneasily mostly-asleep, to the passenger seat, and Caroline is left to drive. Considering the fact that she got seven or so solid hours of sleep last night, she's pretty happy with the position, and besides, she knows the way to Florida pretty well.

However, the moving of the tree and cars took longer than they thought, and it's late afternoon by the time they get off the road. The days are getting slightly shorter but that means a lot where a stumble in the dark can mean becoming some thing's bedtime snack, so they start slowing down and looking for a place to stop. Eventually, Bonnie, Jeremy, Elena, and Stefan fall asleep. And Damon probably as asleep as he's going to get, what with his tossing and turning and mumbling about walls and hair gel. Seriously. It's starting to get her panties in a twist, man.

Caroline tries her best to ignore the irritation that she has discovered to be Damon Salvatore, and is surprised when Jenna wakes fully for the first time today.

"What are we looking for?" Jenna says, her voice cracking from lack of use. She's hasn't spoken in nearly twenty four hours, really.

"Just a place to stay for the night," Caroline answers without looking from the road. They're driving at a steady fifty—the apocalypse might have come, but she very well knows how to goddamn drive and she's not gonna let some cannibal freaks change that. So she's only _slightly_ above the speed limit. "Unfortunately, we seem to have hit a rough patch. There hasn't been a house, hotel, or hell, even a shack for _miles_ and it's starting to get dark. I'm afraid the best we're gonna get is locking the doors and sleeping in the car."

Jenna sighs. "Okay. Should we keep the engine on? I mean, gasoline isn't gonna last us forever. Should we use it now and get some more later?"

"We might want to conserve it as much as possible," Caroline decides. "Besides, I don't think everyone would thank us for killing the car in the middle of the night, probably miles away from any gas station. So I'll turn it off after I lock everything up."

Jenna's still sitting up, knees curled up to her chest, when Caroline finishes pulling off to the side and locking the doors. "You can go to bed now, if you want," Caroline says as she turns the car off. It starts to get colder almost immediately, but they deal. They always have. "I mean, I know you've been sleeping almost all of today, but you still look _really_ tired."

Cracking a small smile, Jenna's lips are so bitten and dry that they look about to bleed. "That's just a side effect of PTSD, I think," Jenna says.

And Caroline is very unmistakably surprised—not by the diagnosis, but by the confession. "I thought…you know, I thought that people usually didn't admit to having PTSD."

"Well, God knows you haven't," Jenna says. "You've got all the classic signs. At least I _try_ to sleep. Anyway." She clears her throat. "You're right, I think we should both go to sleep. It's getting to be dark and I'd like to get there tomorrow, considering the fact it'll have taken us three days to get to a place you can normally reach within a day or so—and that's with traffic and other people."

"Yeah, well, this is the surviving people being careful," Caroline says, but not as sharply as she would've said it to Damon or Elena. The fact is that she's mostly still shocked by Jenna's statement that _she_—and not just Jenna—might have PTSD. And she's even more surprised by the fact that she's still contemplating it and wondering if it just may be true. "Let's go to bed."

Jenna smiles at her, but it's drained of emotion. "You know, I think I understand. The whole PTSD thing. It terrifies you, doesn't it, the thought of having it." It's not a question. "It makes you wonder—will I have a nightmare tonight, what if people find out and start to judge me, can I trust these people to tell them on my own in time."

"What gave you PTSD?" Caroline asks curiously. "Or, you know, whatever this _thing_ is. This—this—"

"—this depressive, frightening, angry thing that repeats those dreaded moments over and over again in the daytime _and_ the night?" Jenna finishes the question. "Yeah."

There's a few moments of silence as they sit next to each other, huddling in the warmth of their clothes.

"I killed my neighbor," Jenna says, cutting into the empty silence abruptly. "Before the Salvatore brothers picked us up. I'd heard the rumors and even seen a few things, but I didn't believe that it was true. So my neighbor, Mrs. McGregor, she came over talking about how her husband bit her and I thought I could disinfect it and she'd be fine. Next thing I knew she was bringing up her own intestines and trying to eat me and Jeremy. Elena and Bonnie, they were studying, they came downstairs when they heard me scream. Jeremy ran to get his baseball bat but I reached my brother's old gun first—I never had the heart to get rid of that thing," she chuckles, and her eyes look glassy and empty but full at the same time. "Or anything else that he ever owned. Anyway.

"I shot my neighbor in the heart, and then she came after me again a few seconds later and I got her in the head. Got blood in my hair, on my clothes, and I could not fucking care less." Jenna laughs humorlessly. "I said hello and goodnight to that woman every day for years and I killed her without a second thought."

"You killed the brainless hungry creature in her body," Caroline says. "It's not the same thing. And you were just trying to survive, that doesn't make it your fault."

(Except people would feed her that bullshit too if she'd stick to the subject long enough, and she already knows that she wouldn't believe them, so what moral right does she have to force that on this poor woman?)

Jenna shrugs, neither accepting nor denying that logic. "Whatever. I thought talking about it would be more positively therapeutic than this. I just, I want to...I want. I don't even know what I want anymore." She directs her gaze at Caroline. "What got you so fucked up? You used to be such a sweet, innocent little girl. Now you're some badass zombie killer and all I get is some backstory about you shooting your father and letting some taxi driver go back home to his kids, which were probably little starving brainless monsters by then."

"Doesn't that speak for itself?" Caroline asks, and she meant her voice to be cold so the discussion would end but it comes out sounding the tiniest bit insecure.

"I don't know, does it?"

"Does anything anymore?" Caroline asks.

Jenna opens her mouth to reply.

And then there's a knock on the driver's window, and Jenna lets out a brief, startled scream.

* * *

*_Too Young to Marry_ stars Nina Dobrev. Just a slight VD reference, for my own humorous fun. :)

* * *

A/N: Well, there you people have it, chapter three. I hope it measured up to your standards? *hopeful face* If not, please tell me how to do better next time. Now, I already have this story planned out, but I'll still take requests if I can fit them in with any possible adjustments, so please feel free to ask me to involve something as long as it's not something totally outlandish.

ALSO. Was the Jenna/Caroline conversation awkward? It felt that way in my head as I wrote it, and I couldn't seem to fix it as I edited. I tried to make it seem awkward-on-purpose, 'cause you know they haven't talked in years, and I don't know if that worked or not.

I hope you guys liked the Elena/Caroline scene because that was so hard for me to write. I could see it all very clearly in my head, I even saw Elena digging nail polish out of her hoodie sweatshirt pockets and, man, does that make me weird or what, but I wasn't sure if I wrote it correctly. I just tried to make it as realistic as possible.

Also: to those who are concerned about the inclusion of other characters. JUST WAIT. I SHALL BLOW YOUR FREAKING MINDS, LOVES.

Well, probably not. :P But I'll try. ;)

See you guys next time! I love you guys so much and please consider leaving me a review, because those things are better than vanilla coke (and man, do I love vanilla coke). Bye!


	4. forget the dreams that were broken

Disclaimer: Whoa, y'all. If I owned VD, there would be no more Delena-Stelena triangles. And Daroline would rule the earth.

A/n: On the strangely-upside, I was looking up Forwood stuff because, natch, I started writing something _else_, and found I was still totally in love with it. So if there's a few past-Forwood moments in the future of this fic, I apologize if you don't like. It doesn't change the outcome, it just might slightly alter how we get there. :)

Also: I broke fifty reviews! I've never gotten that high before - in reviews. Ummm. Anyway. I have decided something! Because I am such an accommodating, awesome (ha) person, I'm going to give my fiftieth reviewer a chance to incorporate something - be it a dream, an object, a name, a song, something small like that - into my next chapter. I know it's probably lame, and he/she most _def _does _not_ have to take part in it, but please feel free. :)

AmyFrancis, just PM me if you want to really do this. I don't know how much you actually liked this, but if you think of something, please tell me.

God, that doesn't sound all, "Oh, I'm such a big hotshot writer, I'm gonna give you a gift and let you put something small into my fic," does it? Because I _so_ didn't mean for it to sound like that.

Anyway. :) I'll also be doing this for the hundredth review, and the hundred and fiftieth, and so on, and GOD, HOW CAN I DARE TO DREAM THAT FAR. A HUNDRED REVIEWS? HOW CAN I EXPECT THAT MUCH? (Next thing you know, I'll be full-on, all-out hallucinating.) Honestly, I'm just not that good. :)

So, I hope you enjoy chapter four! I put a lot of hard work into it, and I must thank _Mariagoner _for her lovely tips when I sent her a rough draft of the beginning. She's always so helpful and I really enjoy our little chats! Please feel free to review with comments, questions, requests, I'll even take flames because they keep me warm during the winter. *huddles in warmth of flames*

Enjoy!

* * *

_forget the dreams that were broken _

–Nina Simone, "Forget"

* * *

Stefan typically does not dream. This is usually because he's already a bit of a daydreamer, and Damon once—mad because Stefan hadn't been paying attention to one of his angry Damon-esque quip-y rants—suggested that it was because of that that he drained his supply of imagination during the waking hours.

(Like almost everything else that Damon says, it's bullshit.)

But he dreams this night, of Elena's warm body and the way her feet are always cold underneath mounds of blankets and how she looks in his shirt and boxers in the morning, hair ratted and tangled and eyes heavy with a memory of sleep. And maybe it's a bit creepy to be dreaming of this girl he's only had sex with a few times (no, creeper, you don't get details, what do you think he is, some sort of sexual conquistador, try the other brother) but he can't help it.

There's some sort of _connection_ with Elena that he feels.

Sure, she can be a bit vain and excessive and overly emotional. Sometimes he wishes there'd be less of all that dramatic stuff that always seems to go on in her life, tragic or not. But it's part of what makes her who she is, and the moment he saw her he knew he wanted that dark hair, those curious doe eyes, and her exotic full lips.

Anyway. So he dreams about Elena.

The dream switches over maybe partly through, and next thing he knows they've gone from lying on a fold-out sofa together (if anything, his imagination is not clichéd, there are no soft king-sized beds for him) to running from zombies in a field together when one particularly fast monster takes a large bite out of her pretty flawless creamy _mine_ shoulder.

After his dream-self, blurry and slowed by the deceleration that always seems to take place in dreams, gathers her up in his arms and tells her soothing nothings that obviously don't soothe, he stops dreaming.

Just…grayness.

(Sometimes he's afraid that that's all he'll be after this is through. Just an empty space, colorless. He can feel the darkness of this situation stripping part of him from his used-to-be-whole self bit by fucking bit.)

The grayness scares him even more than the thought of losing Elena, sometimes. And other times it's neck and neck.

* * *

He wakes to Caroline trying to push his shoulder off of his body. "What?" he asks, and yeah, maybe he's a little grumpy. Because he could swear that he hasn't been asleep but _one hour_. Maybe two. He checks his watch. Nope, not even one. _Yay_.

Caroline gestures to her seat at the front, where he can hear a slight tapping. "We've got company," she mouths. She moves on to Damon next, who mumbles something about ions and a failing grade before she shakes him awake.

Stefan, quickly pulling on Damon's old pair of combat boots—of course he didn't have any of his own, are you kidding me—barely notices how Caroline's fingers linger on Damon's shoulders, or how their eyes lock, blue on blue, or how Damon's breathing rate decreases and his eyes move down to her full, now-pale-with-cold pink lips.

Barely. Really.

Eventually, Jenna clears her throat from the backseat, where she's waking up the rest of the group, and says, "Caroline, you gonna let go of him anytime soon? In case you haven't noticed, we've got somebody to meet. Hopefully somebody that's not murderous or whatever."

"If they just wanted to kill us they'd have broken the glass with their guns," Caroline says. "And shot us then." But she lets go of Damon immediately, as though touching him stings.

"That's assuming they have guns."

"It's the zombie apocalypse and they've survived this far. They have guns," she says firmly, as Jeremy and Bonnie seem to wake at the same time.

Jenna wakes Elena and they fill everyone in on the tapping, which _still _hasn't ceased.

"Can we, um—can we talk?" a voice from outside barely penetrates the locked doors and the thickness of the colder night. It's female, about their age…maybe a little bit younger. The wall between them of the car makes sound seem so much more different and subject to change. "Look, I—I promise that I, I, I'm not a serial killer or anything. I just want to talk. Please. It's…well, not life-or-death, but you know the outside world. It _could_ be, eventually."

"Can we _please_ open the door now?" Damon asks snappishly, possibly even more confused and annoyed now that these mystery people _have_ spoken. "Those people are starting to piss me off. How did they even know there were people in here?"

Caroline shrugs. "Maybe the fact that the hood's still warm? I guess that might be it. And these windows are tinted black, and they don't seem to have a light source big enough to pierce through the tinted glass—it's not strong enough for us to see it, anyway. So I suppose they're just guessing."

Bonnie digests this information first. "Well…they don't seem to be much threat. Like you said, they would've already shot us if they were. They probably just want to meet with us, talk to us. Assuming it's more than just one person."

There's a pause. Elena asks it first: "So, who's gonna go talk to them?"

Another silence.

"I suggest Stefan," Damon throws his brother under the bus. At seeing his brother's slightly betrayed look, he explains, "Look, you're our best…speaker, or whatever. The whole…speech…thing." He waves his arms around, flailing slightly in their confined space and nearly smacking Caroline in the face (she's still almost uncomfortably close to him now, Stefan notes) to extend on his point.

Stefan takes this with pursed lips and a slight nod.

"I'll go, be the gun-holder and intimidation and everything," Jenna offers. "I mean, I've probably got the quickest reflexes at the moment, I am _spiked_ with adrenaline now." She gives a small grin, but it falls flat quickly.

"The rest of us should stay in the car," Caroline decides. "And if they're not back in five minutes, we go out with our guns and…respective other weapons." Her gaze drifts over to Jeremy's bloody, brain-stained baseball bat, glued to his hands now. "And if it's a lost cause and they're gonna overwhelm us, we jump in the car together and drive away. Same with if there're zombies out there. That work?"

"I think so," Stefan agrees. "Anybody else have any other ideas?"

Elena speaks up, almost timidly so as she eyes Caroline. "Why do we want to meet these people, anyway? I mean, I know they're probably not dangerous but…what if they're cannibals or something and just don't like eating around the buckshot? What if they're gonna stick us in an arena with a bunch of other zombies?"

"Elena…" Damon sighs. "Elena, Elena, Elena. _Too much_ of _The Walking Dead_. I mean, seriously. Nobody's stupid enough to actually put zombies _in an arena_." He shrugs. "Besides, it took them a year to build that thing. This zombie thing's only been going on for a couple of weeks."

"Can you guys check it out now before an equally stupid subject comes up and unnecessarily scares us _more_?" Caroline interrupts. "Not that I don't love discussing _The Walking Dead_, but I—I, I mean _we_—have all had enough gore and shit in our lives lately already without discussing some stupid comic book. Can we get this over with before I get even _more_ creeped out?"

Stefan raises up his hands. "Okay, Caroline's right, enough. Let's go, Jenna."

They crawl out through the trunk, guns firmly in hand with the safeties off, shutting it softly behind them.

There's silence.

Jeremy and Bonnie start to talk quietly, and Elena bends her head and starts muttering to herself—or maybe she's praying, nobody knows and nobody wants to ask her.

Leaving Caroline, crouching down near Damon's knees, and the badass brother himself, listening eagerly for news of the boy they both—um—_deeply care about_ is probably the term that would fit best, she hasn't known him long enough to _love_ him or anything. _If anything,_ Caroline thinks desperately, _Elena and Damon should be talking right now. They both love him, after all. I've only known him—them both, really—for going on two days. So._

"I'm sure he'll be fine," she says when she notices the crease in Damon's brow.

His sculpted features look worried before he forces them into a relaxed expression. "Yeah, I know," he says, and his voice is still tight. "I'm sure he'll be all right. He's Stefan, after all. He's always all right."

"Yeah," she replies, because there's nothing else left to say, and because Stefan _does_ seem like _that_ guy; like nothing bad could ever happen to him. Like he's untouchable, by zombies or heartbreak or anything else a seventeen-year-old has got to worry about in this day and age. He even seems impenetrable in his emotions. Like time could never touch anything but his usually-lined forehead.

But the truth is that he could have just been bitten by a rogue unnoticed zombie and they might not know for another thirty minutes, by which time it'll probably be too late—if they fall into a temporary coma, then it's too late, and that usually happens within thirty or forty-five moments, she guesses.

The truth is that he _could_ have been hurt, or killed, in the past five seconds, and they wouldn't know until the time for saving him is already gone.

And even though she's only known him for nearly two days, that thought still terrifies her. Deeply, and to a point that she'll never admit to it.

So she just settles for gently setting a hand on Damon's dark blue jean-clad knee and trying not to be too affected by his surprised expression. _Is it really that surprising that I can offer comfort?_

Damon just clears his throat, offers her a small smile that doesn't reach his eyes—she hasn't seen one yet, but she thinks that she'd know if it did—and calls to the backseat, "Hey, Baby Gilbert, whatcha talking 'bout with your girlfriend there?"

But they never hear the answer, because there's a slight rapping on the driver's window again. Caroline launches toward the seat and rolls down the window instead of opening the door. A bright light flashes in her face—Stefan's lantern. She blinks in shock and then he moves it, revealing his face in an eerie ghoulish-like light: a dark, almost _dank_ yellow is what comes to mind, though somehow it's still pale. It reminds her creepily of their first few moments after meeting in that little cottage, and her hair dripped down her back and his face was lit up and he looked like what she _would_ have called a creepy-looking-maybe-monster if she hadn't been walking past the _real_ ones for _hours_ before.

This time, however, Stefan's face is lit up in a grin that she's never seen before. It's an intrigued, curious grin, but there's also some humor in it. "You are not gonna believe this," he says, calling back to the backseat, catching Elena's attention as she looks up from her mumbling. "It's uncanny. Unrealistic. This should only happen on soap operas."

"What?" Damon asks crossly, though Caroline can tell that it's to hide his relief that Stefan's okay.

(Not a very emotional pair, are they? Not when it comes to each other, she grasps. Though she imagines that if the time came, they would choose to sacrifice themselves for the other. They just have that kind of hidden, strong, undeniable-yet-they-in-some-way-deny-it-anyway bond.)

Stefan just smirks again in reply (and God, does that look weird on his face, it honestly just _fits_ better on Damon) and motions for them to get out.

Painstakingly, they climb all over each other and end up in the pitch dark. There's a full moon, so there is some light—and God, this is like every horror movie they've all ever seen—but all that Caroline can make out is two dark shadows underneath the nearby trees. One is significantly taller than the other, around her or Elena's height.

The shorter one steps out. She's tall for her age—probably fifteen or sixteen at the most, but no younger than fourteen at the least—and her dark, wavy chestnut hair falls to her ribcage. Her eyes are a warm brown, though darker than Elena's. Her lips are a pale pink, untouched by lipstick or gloss. Her skin is pale and hints at perhaps an Asian origin, though Caroline can't be sure. She's wearing a black jeans jacket, a white tank top, and fitted black jeans. Her shoes are simple sneakers, black—which is probably for the best, considering how well blood shows up on white.

"Hi," she says, the same voice as the one from before, and stares, transfixed, at Elena and Jeremy, side by side—though probably for very different reasons. With Elena, she's looking at her like she's a goddess, or a freak of nature, or an impossibility brought to life. With Jeremy—her gaze is almost _intrigued_, if anything. And intrigued looks good on her, her fine dark eyebrows lightly raised as she blinks at him and then looks away, looking even more curious.

Jeremy looks equally interested by the introduction of this new girl, but he doesn't say anything and grips Bonnie's hand tighter.

"I'm Anna." She looks around at the shadow by the trees, still unmasked. Still a mystery. "I'm here with my adoptive sister. We've…we've kinda been striking it out on our own."

"Anna," Elena breathes, stepping forward. "I'm Elena. It's nice to meet you." They shake hands very formally.

"I believe the pleasure's all mine," says the taller one, who is still unrevealed, and her voice is smooth and silky but—

—But it's very strangely _similar_ to Elena's.

The shadow comes forward from the trees, its—_her_—legs seeming to be a mile long and covered by dark, ripped blue jeans. She's wearing a dark green (the color of emeralds) halter top and shiny black leather boots that go up to her knees. Her face is revealed last as the final bit of secrecy vanishes as to her identity.

And out steps someone Caroline never thought could exist.

She looks like Elena's _twin_ or something. Same height, same weight, same dark brown hair (though this stranger's hair is admittedly curly where Elena's is straight), similar eyes (though this new person's look more indifferent and perhaps colder than Elena's could ever be), and every other facial or body feature is intact. It's like someone made a replica of Elena and left her out here with this _Anna_ for them to find and marvel over.

"Hello," she says, looking Stefan up and down with a knowing smirk, "I'm Katherine."

* * *

"I don't understand how this is possible," Elena says slowly.

She's the first to speak in all of this…craziness.

"Well, it's certainly…interesting," Stefan offers up.

"Yeah, no kidding," Damon snorts. "They're _exactly alike_, Stefan. Of _course_ it's interesting. Not to mention, impossible. There must be _some_ slight difference." He ponders this. "Okay, Stefan, I'm presuming you and Elena have taken it to _that level_, which I won't specify for fear of traumatizing poor innocent Baby Gilbert forever. Are there any, um, minor details—particular, precise ones? Ones that would be practically impossible for another person to have, considering they look _that_ alike?"

"Well—" Stefan starts, but Elena slaps a hand over his mouth.

"We decided never to talk about that," Elena growls, and he shuts up. For fear of his own life, obviously. "Damon, stay out of my personal business. Including my body."

"But it's so _nice_ to—" his eyes rake their way up and down her body. "—_discuss_."

And even though by the tone she can tell that he's joking, and that there's obviously no tension between them (like there sometimes is between her and Stefan), Caroline still can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Which she doesn't understand. At all. Like, seriously. They've exchanged maybe thirty words, altogether.

_So I'm attracted to both brothers, trying to save my friendship with the girl who kissed _my_ boyfriend two years ago, whom I'm trying to forget, by the way, and I think Jeremy still has a small crush on me, though hopefully that's just fading away all quiet-like and stuff. And that's just getting into my love life._

_ …FML._

* * *

Anna is the first one to speak after the next long silence. "Well," she says, clearing her throat. "Where you guys headed?"

Jenna talks next, saying, "We're picking up my boyfriend. He was in Florida when this whole mess started." She flails her arms to accentuate the all-encompassing-ness of the "mess."

"Are you sure he's still alive?" Katherine asks dryly, sidling up to Stefan, who nervously edges his way back to Elena's side. Katherine just sticks close to him despite his clear edginess when it comes to her. Elena's caught somewhere between a satisfied smirk and a jealous glare, both directed at Katherine.

"Yes," Jenna says, practically snarling at the unspoken accusation that this might be a waste of a trip. And, more importantly, that Alaric might be dead. "I spoke to him three days ago by phone, before the phones and computers and other tech just stopped working. And Ric's smart enough to stay alive for three measly days."

"Right," Katherine replies.

"Would you…would you like to go with us?" Stefan offers. He looks slightly unsure of himself, though a nod from Bonnie and Jeremy gets him to smile a bit more confidently at the adoptive sisters that look nothing alike.

Anna grins. "Absolutely. I was getting bored anyway. This should be…entertaining." Her eyes find Jeremy again, but she looks away so quickly it's like her gaze never even strayed.

Bonnie's smile lessens, and then vanishes completely when Jeremy uncomfortably clears his throat and holds her closer. Yet he feels farther away.

Meanwhile, Elena is glaring hard enough at Stefan to kill a creature with less will and inner strength. As it is, Caroline suspects that he's fighting for his life not to either pass out from the force behind Elena's stare or to save himself and take back the suggestion so freely given to the sisters.

It's Damon who interrupts the awkward silent moment, saying, "Okay. So they can stay. But where the _hell_ are we gonna put them? If you'll notice, this car only seats seven. And there's nine of us now, if you count Baby Gilbert, Mr. Forehead, my dashing self, the brunette Olsen twins over there, Bonbon, Jenny over there, this crazy Anna person—sorry, I don't know you well enough for a better nickname, my apologies, I'll come up with something better soon—and Carebear."

"Carebear?" Caroline sputters. "Oh, _hell_ no."

"Oh, _hell_ yes. That was a very good ghetto impression, by the way, my congrats," Damon says back, as snarky as possible, overdramatically clapping his hands twice for show. "Now, as I was _saying_ before _Carebear_ so _rudely_ interrupted me, the car you see before you, stolen by _moi_, only seats seven. And there are nine of us now. If we're actually keeping them." He looks at Anna, then at Katherine, then at Elena's laserlike glare towards Stefan. He turns to Stefan, and then whines, "Do we _have_ to, by the way? I mean—"

"Yes, we have to," Stefan says, and his words are firm. He tries not to look at Elena while saying it, and succeeds. He doesn't give in and retract his invitation, a kind of strength in which he strangely feels an odd combination of pride and guilt over.

Katherine's grin brightens, and Elena's scowl darkens.

"Then let's find another car," Damon grumbles, clearly disappointed by the lack of kicking people out yet. They split into groups: Katherine, Caroline, and Bonnie; Anna, Elena, and Jeremy; and Jenna, Stefan, and Damon.

"Make sure it's the _right_ kind of car," Damon instructs as they separate. "In other words, find me an SUV, or something similar but still badass!"

* * *

About thirty minutes later they've found a nice 2013 GMC Savanna 2500 at a nearby car dealership that Damon practically dies over, because apparently it's a steal for a nine-person car. It's a hot red color, which apparently suits him just fine. "We look like a taffy-pulling machine just demolished our car," he says, "but it'll fit. Though it may be the farthest thing from _badass_ I've ever seen that's car-related, except for that Volkswagen Bug that Stefan started saving up for at age ten and promptly dropped ten minutes later." He sighs. "God, this thing is huge and it only fits nine.

"Jesus, what are we gonna do ifffffff—_when_ we get Alaric?" he asks, editing when he notices Jenna's cold, silent, angry stare. "Get a fucking _bus_ or some shit like that?"

* * *

That morning, as dawn breaks, Jenna is _still_ driving—she refuses to try to sleep again, saying it's unnecessary, though the dark circles forming rapidly underneath eyes suggests that she needs otherwise—and almost everyone else is asleep. Anna and Bonnie are asleep on Jeremy's left and right shoulders, respectively, and that kind of creeps Katherine out a little bit (Anna normally doesn't like strangers, like, _at all_) while she discusses where they're gonna go with Caroline and Damon, who are next to her. Elena is asleep, cheek pressed to the window and forming a cloud of air on the glass, on Damon's other side—he is trapped between her and Caroline—and Stefan is resting in the passenger seat. Katherine is on Caroline's other side, and she peers over Caroline to ask Damon, "So, we're picking up this chick's teacher boyfriend? At a _university_? Are you guys _insane_ or something? That's practically suicide. Probably."

"Probably," Damon shrugs. "But Jeremy and Elena are insistent; anything for Jenna. Ever since their parents died five or so years ago, she's really been helping them out. And she's been really traumatized by this whole zombie thing going on, a lot more than the rest of us, I think." They're speaking quietly so Jenna, who's concentrating on the road and thoughts of her boyfriend—the one stability in her life so far, except maybe the kids—won't hear, which feels juvenile and slightly guilt-inducing. It probably should.

"I feel like we should be calling them something else," Caroline speaks up randomly. "I mean…it just seems so _cliché_ and _stupid_ to call them that. They were _people_ once, after all. Don't they deserve something better, something less…I don't know, George Romano? Don't they deserve something more original, something less stereotypical and dehumanizing?"

Damon snorts, but it's not without a little gentleness to it, if that's possible. (She doesn't even know if Damon Salvatore can be gentle or not, but after that hair gel moment, she suspects he has his few, brief, quickly-passing episodes of…a sort of softness. Well, maybe not _softness_. Just being soft_er _than usual.) "Please. They're trying to eat our _brains_, if you haven't noticed, _Carebear_. They were human once, but now they're not. Why bother giving them something that they won't care about? All they want is the meat on our bones and the brains in our heads. They don't need a new name, cliché or not."

Caroline scrunches up her nose, slightly dissatisfied with his obvious dismissal of these things that used to be _people_, these things she's shot for her own survival like you kill vermin, but she drops it. It's not a question you ask other people, really. It's a question you ask yourself, she thinks. _It's a question you have to answer yourself, too_.

Shrugging, Katherine doesn't comment on this strange tangent of many that she's discovered Blondie's prone to (Damon's got her hooked on the nickname already, as they both warm up more and more to _Carebear _and Caroline's pure hatred of it), and the discussion is left unfinished.

But that doesn't mean they don't stop caring, or rethinking, or pitying these thoughtless creatures whose families and careers and lives and homes and thoughts and wants and _needs_. Before a mindless epidemic took it all away, and a bullet to the head ended all hope of any cure, of any reorganizing for that one person who _used_ to actually _be_ a person, when human beings were still human.

They just care and rethink and pity those _things_ out there inside their head, and not out loud.

Because, really, you shouldn't pity the things trying to kill you, but somehow they do.

* * *

They reach the university before the sun has finished rising, having taken all back roads and maybe-possibly-made-up roads (who knows with Jenna driving—Jenna, who's crazy to get back to the guy she's been with for what seems like forever now), and Jenna gets them all to wake up as they reach the entrance—mostly because she turns the CD player on full blast, making Coldplay (Elena's CD) scream into their ears. It's a lot faster than the individual wake-up calls they've been doing lately…but also a lot more terrifying and likely to deafen you, and not just because of the music, but because of the shrieking.

Caroline screams, Damon winces at Caroline's shrill tone _and_ the music, Bonnie jerks, Elena twitches, Stefan's eyes pop open in a hilarious mixture of comedy and horror, Jeremy jumps, Anna opens her eyes quickly and claps her hands over her ears, and Katherine somehow manages to fucking _smirk_ in the middle of it all.

_Bitch_, Damon thinks about this Elena carbon copy, and he suspects that it won't be the last time. They just seem like they're the type of personalities that…clash, or something.

"We're here," Jenna says.

"Can't we sleep for a few more hours, and _then_ go in?" Bonnie mumbles, and Jeremy suppresses an amused smile at her half-open eyes.

"No," Jenna snaps, and her voice leaves absolutely no room for argument.

And so, they prepare for probable war against a bunch of red-eyed (it's natural, the zombie apocalypse didn't start that, blame the drinking), groaning, virginity-is-totally-speculative, flesh-eating frat boys and previously-unhappy, bowtie-armed, brain-chewing faculty.

* * *

A/N: So, tell me, just how cliched was I? *cowers in expectations*

Again, AmyFrancis, if you didn't get the message above, please feel free to add in a personal request that I will totally take to heart, okay. It will totally end up in the next couple of chapters if not the next one immediately. *ponders* It's optional for another five days or so. :)

Thank you everyone for sticking with me through this for so long and so far, and I really do love you people and your commentary! Some of you make me crack up, some of you make me smile, and several of you make me want to just hug you for the incredibly nice things that you say that I truly don't deserve. So, thanks. :)

See you next chapter? Review and let me know!


	5. just the beat of my poor heart

Disclaimer: Don't own. If I did, things would be so much different. DELENA WOULD *NOT* EXIST.

* * *

A/N: So, this chapter is extremely bad to me, but idk, it's your choice to read. :) Thank you, _Mariagoner_, for pushing me into posting, even if I don't particularly enjoy this update. The chapter is either too slow or too fast, I can't decide. But Mariagoner, my dear, you are total awesomeness put into an avatar and bio. :)

Also, this fulfills AmyFrancis's request. I hope you like. I know I did. :)

One more thing: SEVENTY-THREE REVIEWS. SERIOUSLY? You people are, like, amazing. The wind beneath my wings and all that and yadda yadda yadda. I love you all. Goodnight!

* * *

_just the beat of my poor heart in the dark_

_-_Nina Simone, "In the Dark"

Caroline is pulling on her sneakers, gun tucked under her arm casually as she ties the laces, when the thought occurs to her. "Shouldn't we have someone here, ready to drive the car, just in case?" she asks in Damon's sort-of-vague direction. (In other words, she's basically only asking him.)

All eyes turn to Elena, almost unconsciously.

And she looks slightly miffed because of it. "No," she says, her tone leaving no room for argument, her eyes flickering between Stefan and Katherine—not that her eyes have to move much, because Katherine is making _damn sure_ that there's _very_ little space between her and Stefan. "I'm going, too."

Katherine snorts. "I'll solve this, then. Anna, you're staying."

"What? No!" the teen exclaims, her hands already focusing on adjusting her small handgun. "I'd be so much help!" Her eyes zero in on Katherine. "C'mon. Please, Kat!"

The elder of the adoptive pair of sisters shakes her head. "_You go in there and you may die. I'm doing this to protect you_," she wants to say.

But she's never been that kind of love-out-loud sort of person. Instead, she just tosses her curls arrogantly, runs her fingers up and down Stefan's bare arm (he shivers and tries to turn away, the hairs on his arm rising as she runs her hand back down and she smiles), and tells her, "Yeah, you're staying here. You might have to spend the night in this car alone. Lock the doors. No arguments. Get over it." She kisses the top of her adoptive sister's head and stalks her way out of the car, spine and head bent, as best as anyone ever could—nobody knows just _how_ she manages it. She returns a few minutes later, claiming that the parking lot is pretty clear except for a few strays.

Anna argues against the decision, but Katherine doesn't let up, and finally, the youngest of them all agrees to stay behind, mostly just to preserve them all from a bigger headache, because Katherine is goddamn loud when she wants to be. "Just be careful, Kat," she warns.

Katherine flashes a smile that she doesn't really mean, runs her fingers through her curls again, and ruffles Anna's hair. "Aren't I always, A?"

Then she just barely brushes her lips to Anna's hairline again, and they all leave the car and a grumpy Anna alone, slamming the locked door shut behind them. Anna curls up in the driver's seat, holding back tears of worry and a faint feeling of knowing. A terrible lingering sense of foreboding knots in the pit of her stomach, and something swells up in her throat that is suspiciously like a lump as she watches Katherine walk away.

God knows it might even be the last time.

* * *

They're walking all in a group, but Damon and Caroline end up lagging in the back. That's when Caroline takes her chance, gives in to her inquisitive side, and says, "So, what's up with you and Elena?"

He pauses. "What do you mean by that?"

"When Stefan was gone, duh. You were both worried sick—it's like, most people would help each other out in that situation, try to make each other feel better. You were both scared to death—don't even try to deny it, I know you were," she says, interrupting his scowl and argument before he can speak, anticipating what he might disagree on. "So, why didn't you two help each other through it or something?"

He shrugs, his eyes giving away nothing as he stares straight ahead, gun cocked. "We're kinda awkward together in some circumstances, I guess. Suppose that was one of them. We went out a couple of times before she met Stefan. And we just didn't work out. And we haven't really talked since…it's like we don't know who to be around each other. We just didn't…fit together well," he finishes lamely.

"Why not?" she asks, now genuinely curious. After all, Elena is generous and kind and good-hearted and pretty and she has a decent I.Q. and she knows how to parallel park and steal boyfriends and do everything Caroline doesn't and—

"She was way too clingy," he says simply, shrugging.

"Oh." She wasn't expecting something like that. Once she gets over the faint surprise, she snorts. "I somehow thought you'd be the secretly closet-clingy type. A misconception, I take it?"

He smirks. "Please. I, for one, know how to have a healthy, non-clingy relationship."

(To which Stefan, passing by, quite literally says, "Ha." Damon just thumps him in the back of the head, but Stefan's self-satisfied smile doesn't disappear for a good twenty minutes.)

* * *

They're wandering the grounds when they decide to split up. Elena and Katherine both grab simultaneously at Stefan's left and right arms, respectively, and Damon is struck with the image of a younger, more awkward Hugh Hefner with twin models. Because Stefan looks _really_ nervous.

Elena glowers Katherine's way, but the will-of-steel newcomer only tightens her grip on Stefan and flashes a sickly-sweet smile at Elena. "Let's go, then," Elena forces out through gritted teeth, and they head in the vague direction of the library.

(According to Jenna, there are only three places that Alaric could be: the library, his office, or the cafeteria, all "conveniently" placed in the three corners of the campus. And apparently Elena's already chosen the one her little group will be taking.)

Jenna grabs at Jeremy and Bonnie's arms and declares her intent to reach the office building. They get pulled away reluctantly.

Leaving Damon and Caroline. In the parking lot. Alone.

_Dear God_, she thinks. She's never been much of a religious person—and she especially isn't now, in the present situation, duh—but here she is, stuck with Damon Salvatore. _Save me. Let me stifle my instincts to alternatively either jump him or shoot him. _She doesn't doubt that he's a good man, in his own way—but he has this _vibe_ to him, a kind of frightening one, truth be told. The kind that makes you edge away from him, like she is doing now, but also the kind that make you want to be drawn in closer even as you are.

"Guess we're stuck with the cafeteria, huh?" he asks, meaning to get a laugh out of her.

She settles for a weak smile. "Yeah. Together."

His slight smirk vanishes in favor of a thoughtful face. "Yeah, together," he repeats, looking like he's a million miles away.

* * *

Okay, so sue him. He's attracted to Miss Carebear here, and now he's stuck with her. Just her. No buffer, nobody else to distract him from watching her long legs or tumbling, blonde curls, or pretty round blue eyes, or hardened, broken beautiful face.

They start walking in the direction of the cafeteria, and frankly, they're both quite surprised that they haven't run into a bunch of zombies just yet. There should have been a group by now, but there hasn't been, which kind of scares them both. They're just…walking around the campus, looking around, but the most they see is a couple of strays that don't even have the energy to come after the pair. The biggest group they see is one collection of four zombies, three of which are lying on the ground side by side. One of them is standing, staring at its three mates, not even twitching when Caroline accidentally takes a step on the concrete badly and trips on the sidewalk, almost falling and twisting her ankle slightly, though not enough to sprain it or even hurt it, relaly.

Damon catches her in his arms. It's like instinct. His arms come around her as he bends forward slightly, and they're wrapped around her stomach and he's breathing in her ear and she blinks as he moves his hands to her elbows, steadying her until she's not pitched forward anymore.

She wants to do something. Yell at him, say she could have picked herself up. Beg him to keep holding onto her, because she's never felt such warmth—what is he, a personal space heater? (Jesus.) Ask him to please let go of her before she punches him in the face. Ignore him and get this job done and make Jenna either happy—with Alaric again—or full of as much closure as possible—without him. (Though God knows Jenna is messed up enough without losing the man she loves.)

She doesn't do anything, though. She just waits until he gently lets go of her elbows and continues walking forward, ignoring the phantom feeling of her back pressed up against his chest.

They keep on in silence, neither of them mentioning his graceful catch or her almost swan-dive—or the spark when his hands caught her and neither of them dared move.

She's not really sure of what to say, and he's not really sure of what he can say. He doesn't know the limits with her. He's listened to her cry and borrowed hair gel from her (he still has to give that back eventually, he remembers) and given her a nickname and called her ghetto. But she's also frozen him out, snapped at him, and totally blocked him.

Ten minutes ago, they were laughing together. Now they're just in deep, dead, static silence, with not even a zombie's groaning marring the lack of sound.

It's disturbing. To think that one month ago this place was filled to the brim with knowledge and drugs and _people_—and now, just nothing. Silence. Added on by the fact that she shuts down any attempts he halfheartedly makes at conversation, until he just stops.

This continues for about a good five or six minutes when they hear the shuffling of the zombie horde coming their way.

* * *

Katherine has looped her arm through Stefan's, interlocking their elbows. They've reached the library and they've already searched the first floor. There was nothing but an angry zombie librarian—messy bun and broken thick blood-smeared glasses and all—and a few stray students, chewing on their books with a glazed dead look in their eyes. Elena had shuddered when Stefan and Katherine had cut their heads off—guns would attract more, of course, if there are any left in the library. (God knows students probably didn't approach the library before.)

Now, Stefan has given up on getting Katherine to let him go, and also on making Elena less jealous. Both are apparently unavoidable when they're in each other's presence, and around him. Which kind of embarrasses him.

It's seven in the evening, nearing eight, and the lights are all off in the library—obviously, because there is rarely electricity in an apocalypse, Katherine thinks to herself and snickers—and Stefan's torch flickers and promptly dies as they're wandering through.

Katherine breaks the unspoken staring contest she'd been part of with Elena, and Elena resists the urge to punch the air in juvenile triumph. "Dammit."

Stefan sighs. "Yup."

She looks at him. "There are still two more floors to this library, and we haven't found one sign of him. If Alaric's survived this long, he can make another night, can't he? Let's just find someplace to crash; someplace zombie-free, preferably." She flashes her shit-eating grin at him. "Come on, Mr. Forehead, let's go find somewhere to sleep. Your little girly looks tired."

Elena shoots Katherine a glare, but Stefan chooses to ignore it and Katherine only glares back.

"Yeah, okay," Stefan decides. "We'll be better tomorrow if we sleep. Besides, Anna's safe in the car and she knows she'll have to spend the night alone. We'll meet up with the others tomorrow and be in better shape."

"Yeah, whatever," Katherine dismisses. "Let's go."

None of them have been sleeping well since this whole thing started, so when they find a small study room in the corner of the second floor and slide the lock shut on the door—as well as prop a table under the lock because nobody knows if that actually works or not but it still _looks_ pretty cool—they all almost immediately pass the fuck out. Stefan has two girls' heads on his shoulders, but he doesn't say anything, and the fact that he can't see past their faces and to their hair means that he doesn't know which one to kiss goodnight. So he just doesn't try at all.

* * *

The office, strangely enough, has several students in it; not to mention, there's a bunch of faculty. Maneuvering past it all requires stealth, secrecy, and intuition. All three of them end up finding an empty office on the end of the first floor and calling it a night, barely hearing the sound of the zombies outside of this office. Jenna snores and says Alaric's name in her sleep. Jeremy and Bonnie end up sleeping whilst holding hands again, with Jeremy gently smiling in his dreams and Bonnie lying still next to him, backs propped up against the wall and heads leaned slightly toward each other.

* * *

So, these red-eyed, puffy-looking, sad little college zombies come after them.

And those little motherfuckers can _run_.

Damon and Caroline end up running towards the cafeteria, bursting through the open doors…and to a gigantic group of zombies just milling about or sitting. Every single pair of dead glazed eyes comes to rest upon them. Caroline curses, and so does Damon. This is not good at all.

One of the zombies starts moving ever-so-slowly towards Damon, looking to have the intent of biting him, when Damon promptly smacks the zombie in the head with the butt of his gun. Immediately, the surrounding, overwhelming force comes at them. Caroline grabs at his hand, ends up taking hold of his sleeved wrist, and drags him through a side door that leads to a short hallway.

They end up outside of a small janitor's closet, empty and musty and unused in a long time. Desperately, they push the unlocked door open and enter, hearing the sounds of grunting and moaning behind them, and face each other, backs stopping the door from moving without alerting them. The room is mostly empty except for a small cart that is covered in old dusty cleaning supplies and spray bottles and paper towels. They end up sitting in the corner farthest from the door, side by side and crosslegged.

Caroline offers to take the first watch and let him sleep, which he argues against but she eventually wins. It takes nearly half an hour, and most of it he spends complaining and nagging about it, before eventually his eyes slide closed and his breathing evens out and he shuts the fuck up—which might just make her evening bearable now.

* * *

His eyes flicker in his sleep tonight, she notices, though he doesn't toss and turn as much as usual. And he groans. A lot. But it's only when he moans out a low, deep, throaty, "_Yeeessssss_," and jerks his hips forward reflexively that she _gets_ it, and scoots away from his space as he unconsciously twitches again.

She tries to give him the privacy he probably doesn't deserve, but she certainly needs her space at this moment. The thought of him dreaming about someone—is enough to pretty much make her want to hit him and that person. Irrational though the thought may be. Nevertheless, she tries to leave him alone, dragging herself to her corner of the room farthest from him, though it's a small room and they're only a few scant feet away from each other.

She contemplates letting him wake, but she sees things about Damon. She knows that his nose wrinkles and he gets that curious and sometimes frustrated line between his eyes whenever he's worried or annoyed or amused or even scared. She knows he covers up his fear and his worry with stupid cracks about Jeremy and Stefan and even herself, and he doesn't seem to want to make attachments with people because that's probably just the life he knows. She knows he's spent a lot of time raising Stefan after their father died and he was just barely legal enough to keep Stefan at home, and that he hasn't had much fun or time to be a _kid_, even before the zombie apocalypse.

She knows that the probable only reason he's still here is because Stefan is in some other room in some other building and practically completely unprotected, and Damon is secretly terrified that he'll be replaced by some _creature_ in the morning when they get to him—or _it_.

Probably the only reason that Damon hasn't packed up and left on his own, she thinks, is Stefan.

(She doesn't dare to think that he might care about anyone else, much less her, the messed up bitchy ex-resident of Mystic Falls that left because her boyfriend cheated with her on her bestie.)

He gives another small little moan as she awkwardly tries to inch away from him, crossed arms encircling her knees as she nervously rests her chin on the space between her knees. It's probably not very appropriate from him to be having a sex dream when his brother could be Turning across campus. But who is she to judge. She packed freaking hair gel and jewelry and toothpaste with her dead father, stepdad (of sorts), and stepsister (again, of sorts) dead in the next room. She stepped over their bodies like they were nothing, even though her hands were shaking and the taxi outside was honking too loudly and she couldn't breathe. She still treated them like they were nothing. No respects, no prayers, no apologies, no freaking words at all because she couldn't open her mouth to speak (but what kind of excuse is that, she thinks). Nothing.

So she really can't say that what he's doing is wrong.

She lets him dream, wishes him happiness even if it's merely for just a night, and tries to ignore a twinge of jealousy that she has for a nonexistent person that only lives in Damon's dreams.

* * *

_His lips, climbing up her long, creamy legs that seem to stretch for miles; his hands, reaching for her hips and securing around her waist as she lifts her lower body up for easier access for him, arching her back with a moan as he crawls up her lower body, fingers rubbing and soothing and tracing unknowable designs on her skin; his eyes, closed firmly to better enjoy the moment; his skin, senses heightened, feeling the aftermath of her shaking her head enthusiastically._

_ Marking his territory with his lips and teeth and tongue, he ascends his way up the space in-between her thighs—he had started at her ankles, he thinks—and descends upon her _other_ lips, open with a bright invitation. But he doesn't stay there long. He likes to tempt, to taunt, to torture—it's his _thing_, or so Stefan would say, to prolong suffering of those that he loves in order to make the reward even greater, even sweeter—if someone will stick around long enough for the reward, that is._

Do _not_ think of your brother during a moment like this, just don't, _he reminds himself as he leaves her vagina—she makes a choking noise in the back of her throat at his last, hard lick—and finds his way to her lower stomach. He licks his way up her belly, firm but still somehow soft, and reaches her chest. He spends more time there, twisting one nipple in-between his thumb and forefinger while the other is sucked and licked and treasured by his overeager mouth._

_ She gives a muted low screech that he continues to hear long after she stops making the sound, the noise echoing in his head sharply even as it fades, and he leaves her breasts, abandoning them for her long, smooth neck and throat. He dots kisses up her throat as she swallows heavily, making a whining noise not much different from that of a kitten begging for milk or a puppy wishing to be petted. (She certainly has the _fierceness_ of a wild animal, he decides as she claws at his shoulder blades, her arms over his back and linked near his spine as her toes curl near his ankles.)_

_ Her neck bobs unsteadily as she swallows again, and he can practically hear the blood pumping past her veins in his ears. He slips one finger inside of her, and she gasps, suddenly. He doesn't stop, doesn't let up—because he knows she wouldn't want it any other way._

_ Then his eyes pop open when she reaches down to touch him. He's just about ready to scold her with words that probably won't really make sense—in the way dream conversations often do—when he sees her face. It's blurred, like dream people usually are._

_ But even his dreaming eyes cannot miss the mane of golden hair before him._

_ And that's when he wakes up._

* * *

He wakes up to find it late, later than he expected, and he finds Caroline asleep in the corner nearest to the door, which is dangerous for her but probably good for him—mostly because he doesn't know just how he'd react to find her right next to him just after he had a…

…a…

…a sex dream. With her in it. Starring Caroline Forbes, whose mother he just promised to keep her safe. Ha. Even in his dreams, he can't...

He manages not to gag or freak out internally at the thought. Yes, she's drop dead beautiful, and certainly smart, and kind, and wonderful as far as he can tell. But to wake up next to her after having a steamy dream about her? Ha. No.

His eyes shoot open when he wakes and sees her curled up in a corner in the janitor's closet, and all he can hear is the blood pounding in his ears.

And her quiet breathing.

And his poor quiet heart, thumping erratically at the memory of her imaginary dream body, beating alone in the dark because she's not close enough for him to hear hers.

(He wishes she were closer to him.)

* * *

A/N: So, there's some good old-fashioned Daroline tension right there! I'm actually pretty unsatisfied with this chapter, actually. It makes me sad. I was gonna include a couple of new characters which will probably show up next chapter. And I'm on autopilot right now, so I think I'm off to go actually get some sleep right now. Night! :)


	6. all my fragile strength is gone

Disclaimer: Don't own VD.

A/N: So. Um. Is this really over two months overdue? Ummm. Please don't kill me. I really do have excuses, I swear. (Not that you want to hear them, but I'm going to tell you anyway for those of you that will listen.) My laptop killed what I had written...and then it did it AGAIN...and then I had to rewrite the whole outline because I didn't like where it was going...and then it killed that outline...and so then I had to rewrite it again...and then plot bunnies took over my head...and then I finally locked myself in my closet and wrote this.

Seriously, though, please don't kill me.

Also: I don't normally recommend a soundtrack, but when I wrote the Jenna/Alaric reunion scene I was half-listening to_** "Eternally Missed"**_ by Muse and _**"Gravity"**_ by Sara Bareilles. I hope I lived up to _CrazyLioness6_'s expectations, since she in particular asked for an "epic reunion scene," and she made me want to write a good one even more.

Thank you to everyone who has ever reviewed me, favorited me, followed me, believed in me, given me advice, and waited a long damn time for this chapter. You can yell at me if you want. :( But hopefully this has made up for it? *hopeful face*

* * *

_all my fragile strength is gone_

–Sara Bareilles, "Gravity"

* * *

Stefan finds himself cuddled by two girls that look exactly alike.

If Damon were around, he'd tease him to hell about all this, but Stefan can't help it—he yelps, finding Elena's arm around his waist and stomach, and Katherine's hand on his upper thigh. Seriously. This is like waking up in the middle of True Blood or something.

(Stefan has never been a fan of vampire shows, much less vampire orgy shows. Seriously…the fangs and animal blood and stuff just freak him out. The thought of such _guilt_.)

Katherine twitches first, and Elena comes to quickly after, their eyes even blinking the same. (Dear God. He's either going to die of lust or sheer terror—he learned a long time ago to never wake Elena up before she was ready, and he bets that Katherine is even worse about it, and need he explain the whole _lust _thing?)

"Have a bad dream, Stef?" Elena mumbles as she shoves her hair back into a ponytail with an elastic band on her wrist. It needs to be combed, and washed, but she still looks beautiful to him. "Or was it waking up next to _her_?" she adds viciously, casting a glance in Katherine's direction as her eyes clear of clinging sleepiness. Apparently, jealousy really wakes her up.

"More like it was because he woke up next to _you_," Katherine snaps back, and turns her sweet-and-innocent-looking-but-guilty-as-hell smile on Stefan. "You dreamed of me naked, didn't you? Well, you made it two nights before you succumbed. I'm impressed."

Stefan is at the moment where his articulate skills are needed the most. This has to be good. "Um…" he offers up.

(Damn the gods of language. Where are his so-called "speeches" now, Damon?)

Katherine snorts. "It's okay, I see why you don't want to admit it. By the way, why were you _yelping_?" she asks, half laughing at him and half exchanging glares with Elena, running her fingers through her curly dark hair as a makeshift comb.

"I did not _yelp_," Stefan says, as close to sullen as he can usually get. "I…expressed displeasure."

"You so totally yelped," Katherine says, and Elena turns her angry doe eyes on her.

"He's fine," Elena sharply reprimands. "You let me handle my boyfriend, okay?"

"You're not doing a very good job," Katherine replies as they start removing the chair from its place under the doorknob so that they can resume their search for Alaric. "He was dreaming of me naked, after all."

* * *

Damon roughly wakes her up with a jostle to her shoulders at ten in the morning (thank God for his watch) and settles back down, watching her come around.

First, she flickers her eyes open, looking for all the world like a blue-eyed Sleeping Beauty from the classic Disney kid film, the one he _still_ knows practically by heart. (The things he'd gone to for a five-year-old sugar-high Disney-lovin' Stefan. Honestly. How on earth can this be good for his reputation? Even though there's probably only like a couple hundred people left on the planet to hear his reputation, it still matters, at least to him.)

She yawns delicately behind a fist and stretches herself lazily, like a cat after a morning nap. Which, goddamnit, is somehow sexy. Her hair is casual tossed around her shoulders, and she shakes her head the slightest bit. (He shudders, a recurring memory from the bits and pieces of his dream: her, shaking her head in ecstasy and gripping the material underneath them with white fingernails, trembling hands, wide eyes, racing heartbeat, striking gaze.)

Caroline sits up slightly more and regards him curiously. He's tucked into the corner farthest from her—reminding her of how she tried to get away from him last night—and it's downright childish, but she'll let him be. For now. "It's far too early for this," she mutters, raking her fingers through her hair and blinking. She rubs her arm across her eyes. Is it just her, or is it getting colder?

He says nothing. For God's sake, why won't his lips move? Why is his tongue frozen in place? Normally he'd be quipping like a pro by now.

(His tongue certainly wasn't frozen last night; maybe that's why it's unwilling to move now? He nearly blushes, except Damon Salvatore doesn't blush.)

Turning towards him, she runs her hands on her opposite upper arms, repressing a shiver. She's not helpless little Caroline anymore. It's a zombie apocalypse, for God's sake, she can deal with a little drop in the temperature. She looks at him, eyes on the floor and feet shuffling uncomfortably, and the start of a grin appears on her face. If she has to deal with a little drop in temperature when he appears to be just fine, then shouldn't he have to deal with a little teasing?

Or, so is her reasoning, anyway.

"So," she drawls, "who was your little sex dream about last night? The loud one, I mean."

(Not that he'd been _loud_, exactly, but…well, he certainly hadn't been really quiet. This is her reasoning.)

He stares at her, eyes slightly wider than usual. "How—"

She smirks at him, a reminder of her earlier HBIC cheerleader days, and unlocks the closet door. "Let's go before the zombies arrive to eat our brains," she says. "We'd best blow theirs out first."

Before he can say anything—before he can even _think_ to say anything, and damn it all, when was the last time he was this tongue-tied—she's out the door, leaving him unable to even sputter. She ducks her head back in through the door five seconds later. "Well, come on then, Damon. The apocalypse waits for no sex-deprived man." With that, she's gone again.

_I am _not _blushing_, he thinks, half-furious and half-embarrassed, departing the small room and going after her quick, lithe form—and that description of her body brings up way too many images, so forget that. _And she needs to be bribed before she tells Stefan about this. Or anyone else._

* * *

Bonnie and Jeremy awaken at almost the same time to find Jenna muttering to herself about fire escapes and emergency routes out of their building. Jeremy relaxes, slightly. Jenna has always had a habit of talking to herself in her sleep—this isn't abnormal, at least not too much, and God knows he's worried enough about his aunt without finding out that she's gone crazy or something.

However, Bonnie still looks a little confused, so he just grips her hand tighter. She smiles. He's surprised by the warmth in her touch. Sure, he's practically been touching her nonstop ever since this started—she's been a comfort to him, and vice versa, he supposes—but the building is cold without any heating and his fingers are chilled. "Jeremy," she murmurs, and her voice sends slight shivers up his spine. Say what you want; Caroline might be an angel, but Bonnie is a reliable constant, someone that can depend on him while also taking care of herself, and he doesn't know Caroline well enough anyway.

God, why is he rationalizing this. Attraction is attraction, and he's attracted to Bonnie.

"What?" he whispers back.

"I…" she pauses, hesitant, and lets her words fade away with the wind rattling outside the building. "Let's wake Jenna up, she'll probably want to get going. That clock up there on the wall says that it's almost eleven," she gestures with a tilt of her head towards the aforementioned clock, "and I don't think we should wait any longer."

He shrugs, nods, and reaches over with his free hand to shake Jenna's shoulder.

* * *

The car is cold. _She's_ cold. A tank top, a thin jeans jacket, worn sneakers, thin socks, and fitted skinny jeans isn't the best outfit for the apocalypse, and she's freezing without any heat. But if she keeps the car on, she'll run the gas down. So she sighs, wraps Jeremy's jacket—which he thoughtfully left for her—tighter around herself, and waits for them to come back. _It's a college campus. It's probably really big. I'll give them at least until tomorrow morning before I go out with my shotgun._

But when she hears the moans circling the car as the loitering zombies begin to gather, she reaches for the gun anyway. She might need it soon.

* * *

Jeremy finds the right door first. Jenna's never visited Alaric's office before—she doesn't know which floor it's on—but luckily for them, it's only on the third floor (there are way too many offices in this place). There it is, with _Alaric Saltzman, Professor of History _written on the door in big black capital letters. He pushes the door open hesitantly, poking his gun in before his head, and what he sees makes him start laughing almost hysterically with relief.

"I'm Jeremy," he sticks his hand out, and it's a moment before another strong, muscled hand reaches for his and shakes it. He enters the door and Bonnie comes in after him. They are momentarily awestruck with this sight of another living _human_ being. "This is Bonnie. My aunt Jenna's coming in a minute, she's just making sure we have a couple of safety exits first."

The teen in jeans and a college sweatshirt grins at them and shakes Bonnie's hand too, running his fingers through his short blonde hair. "Hi. Matthew Donovan, quarterback, shortstop, sophomore. Call me Matt."

* * *

There's absolutely nothing in the library. Nothing but a few listless zombies. Finally, they reach the roof of the library and Elena sighs. "There's nothing here. No Alaric. I hope Jenna finds him."

They hear the sharp whistle and look down from the rooftop of the library to see Damon and Caroline walking rapidly on the sidewalk. "Looks like they didn't find anything that was alive in the cafeteria," Katherine remarks dryly.

Elena just rolls her eyes—it's a habit whenever Katherine talks. "Let's go back down, then."

Stefan waves at his brother and Caroline and he wonders. "Maybe there's a faster way to get down. Without having to go through all those zombies."

"I don't know about you, Stefan, but I seriously doubt those elevators are working, or safe if they _are_ somehow still working," Katherine says dubiously. "Besides, we were safe getting up here. We only had to cut off a few heads the first time. We'll be fine."

Stefan bites his lip. "I guess so. I just don't like the thought of going back down there. Someone could get bitten."

"Well, if someone gets bitten," Katherine eyes Elena with a hint of a smirk touching her lips, "it's 'cause they were too _slow_. Or too _girly_ to deal with having to take out the trash."

"Better girly than slutty!" Elena shoots back.

"Guys?" Stefan holds up a hand, exasperated. "Lame."

With that, he begins walking down the stairs. "This is your fault," Elena hisses, and stalks after her boyfriend. With a sigh (_Why do I deal with these people? Oh, right, because he's hot_.), Katherine follows them downstairs and down to Caroline and Damon.

* * *

"You won't tell him, will you?" Damon pleads for the last time as the twins and his brother all head down the stairs of the building he and Caroline are facing.

Caroline just presses her lips together to hold back a revealing smirk. "Only time will tell," she singsongs, tilting her head just so to give her the look of the extremely self-satisfied.

"Well, you look pleased with yourself," Stefan remarks as he exits the library. There's blood on his jacket now, and his knife is red. (Well. It's better than zombies having green blood. She could never have gotten _green_ blood out of her hair.)

She grins. "Yeah. I have my reasons. But I'm pretty sure that if I tell you, Damon might have a little breakdown." She gestures to Stefan's brother in the universal "cuckoo" sign. "And we wouldn't want _that_ to happen…_again_."

"Oh ha, ha," Damon deadpans. "My sides, how they're splitting." As Elena and Katherine exit the building, still having a catfight, he swivels on his heel and stalks away, toward the office building.

Caroline turns and whispers a promise in Stefan's ear, "I'll tell you later," skipping away.

* * *

"Alaric went off to find Professor McCormack's knife collection—the weird things our criminology professor used to collect, I mean, there are, were, rumors about all the junk this guy kept in his office, it could be really useful," Matt rambles after their introductions, turning around and picking up a couple of handguns. "He'll be back in a minute. We've learned how to sidestep the ridiculous amounts of zombies around here. You just have to use the ventilation shafts and hope you don't pull a Bender."

Bonnie grins. "A guy who can watch _The Breakfast Club_ and play sports? My new favorite guy," she announces teasingly, drawing in closer to Matt.

Jeremy just as easily pulls her back to him, and she comes willingly with a wink. _Just a joke_.

"You guys don't need any, do you?" Matt asks, gesturing with his head toward the guns he holds in his hands. "You guys wouldn't have gotten this far if you didn't have _some_ kind of weapon."

"Our friends prefer knives and guns," Bonnie replies. "I carry a butcher knife."

"I've got a baseball bat," Jeremy says, smirking. "I'm different like that."

Matt nods. "Okay, well, the prof and I are splitting up all of the guns he has in his collection, which he was brilliant enough to bring to school when the outbreak really started. God knows why he even came—probably to help kids like me—but at least he came prepared. We just haven't had the opportunity to leave without getting chomped on yet."

"We'll help," Bonnie chimes in cheerfully. "Our friends are coming soon, they'll help, too."

"How many of you are there?" Matt asks, surveying the two of them.

"Like I said," she smiles, taking Jeremy's hand, "there's me and Jer, and then there's his aunt and Mr. Saltzman's girlfriend, Jenna. Then we have Jeremy's sister and my best friend, Elena. Her boyfriend, Stefan. His brother, Damon. Our other friend, Caroline. Katherine and Anna, two adoptive sisters, but Anna's not around because we made her stay in the car in case of a helpful quick getaway being necessary. And…I think that's it, yeah."

Matt blinks. "Ton of you guys, then." He grins. "Great. I've always wanted a big family."

"Are you the last one?" she prods gently.

"Yeah," he sighs. "Dad was never in the picture. Mom's—well, she _was_, I guess—a drunk and never around, anyways. And my little sis ditched high school last year and ran off. Don't know where she is, was, whatever the situation is now. Anyway. Guess I got the only dependable, stay-in-one-place gene. Must've been recessive." He laughs, runs his fingers through his short stiff hair. "Okay, enough with my tragic story. How did you guys get here?"

"Stole cars based on Damon's love for them," Jeremy deadpans, receiving laughs for his effort. "Siphoned gas out of passing cars and once from a gas station, mostly while everyone else is sleeping. We take shifts driving. Don't know where we're going yet…haven't really planned it after this." He frowns. "Shouldn't Alaric be back by now?"

Matt smiles, though the lines between his eyes show badly-hidden worry. "Yeah. But it's okay, we've got these." He pulls a radio from his pocket. It's emitting a slight crackling sound. "He'll talk to me if he gets in trouble."

"Cool," Jeremy approves the radio with a nod and a guy-only grin that Bonnie will never understand. It's like they're _fangirling_ over _technology_ or something. "Did Alaric bring those, too?"

"Yeah," Matt says, eyes shining, and it's clear that he holds a deep admiration for his history teacher. They've obviously become as close as possible for the two. "Dr. Saltzman is always prepared, even for a zombie apocalypse," he chuckles. "I remember when he helped me with my first history paper, he came with so much stuff and helped me for hours, never complained once. He's a great man."

Bonnie smiles. There's something endearing about the childlike innocence in his eyes when he talks about how awesome his teacher is. "Did he get you interested in history?" she prods.

"Yeah," he repeats, tucking a gun in his pocket and several clips in the other. "It was just a class I had to take. I was going to get it over with, but the Civil War lecture he gave really sealed the deal for me. I just loved it. I knew I was going to major in history because of him." He sighs, but it's more resigned than sad. "Guess that's never gonna happen now, is it?"

"At least you got into college," Jeremy teases, a bond forming between the two guys almost instantly. "Me? I never got out of the depressing cesspool known as high school before this all started. You and Damon are the lucky ones. Damon got to finish almost _two years_ of his life after high school. Lucky bastard," he mutters, but it's slightly affectionate.

Bonnie turns on him, smiling. "Yeah, I remember—"

Then there's a screeching sound as one of the ceiling tiles overhead is moved out of place. An athletic male form drops out from the ventilation shaft. She recognizes him from pictures in Elena's house, several ones that Jenna stuffed into her tiny bag: Alaric, with murky but smiling blue eyes and light brown hair that sticks out of place rebelliously—though that might just be the gel.

"Jeremy!" Alaric half-roars affectionately, laughing and ruffling the teen's hair. Jeremy scowls and smiles at the same time, messing with his hair until it's back into place. "How did you get here? And Bonnie!" he turns to face her, grinning. "Matt, I assume you've met—"

"Yeah," Matt smiles. "Yeah, they're cool."

Alaric's expression suddenly turns serious. "I-I hope, you guys, that you two aren't here to tell me that Jenna's—"

"I should have checked the perimeters earlier, you two, but meanwhile you should tell me what you found—" a woman's voice comes from the hallway. It stops dead in the middle of the sentence. "Alaric," she whispers from behind them, and there comes the sound of her knife clattering to the floor.

They all turn towards the open doorway, where Jenna stands: exposed, naked, helpless, hopeful, overwhelmed. Her hands are slightly shaking as she steps closer to him, still a few feet away, her eyes wide and her hair slightly disheveled. His hair is down and blown everywhere by the wind, her shirt is old and torn and spattered lightly in blood in some places. She looks like a royal mess.

And he does not give a damn.

He covers the last few feet between them, stepping past the three teenagers like they aren't even there, reaching her and then…stopping. Unsure if he can still touch her. Unsure what this has done to her, what this situation has left her: a mess, a heroine, a hopeful?

The look in her eyes tells him that it is all of the above, but also this beyond it all: a woman still desperately, hopelessly lost in love.

Just like him.

He isn't unsure any longer, and so he takes her in his arms. His arms wind around her back as she melds into him, burying her face in him and taking in the scent of him even as her cheek digs into the chest of his shirt, so that he won't see the way her eyes are shining even more now. Her hands find themselves clawing at him for an emotional and physical wall, tightly clinging to his back as she reaches around him and grips for anything real and solid and _him_ to hold. He grasps for her just as tightly, just as desperately, just as passionately, his breath warm and real and _not a dream_ in her ear as he kisses her hair.

"Jenna," he breathes into her ear as he rests his chin on top of her head.

"Alaric," she smiles contentedly into his chest.

_Jenna. Alaric. _Two names that are intertwined. They have always been the unstoppable couple, moving on beyond the past despite issues with honesty, previous relationships, and his temporary move to Miami.

Not even the zombie apocalypse can stop them.

"Um, guys?" Matt interrupts the silence. "Don't know if you noticed, but I think it's your friends outside, Jeremy, Bonnie. And it looks like they brought friends." He peers out the window of the third story office. "_A lot_ of friends."

Bonnie looks out the window and gasps, feeling by reflex for Jeremy's close-by comforting hand.

* * *

"I _told _you to watch where you were going," Stefan hisses, as close to angry as he gets.

"I tripped," Elena pants, "and why are you blaming me for this? I'm still convinced _she_ tripped me."

The accusation means that all eyes are half on their path and half on the girl that has just been blamed for their predicament. "Don't look at me," Katherine rolls her eyes up to the sky as they continue running down the path from the library to the office. "I can't help it if Elena can't walk properly."

"Can we just _run _and quit arguing?" Caroline sighs. "I mean, come on, think about it. Elena's running on one leg, technically. We should be focusing on just running faster."

Elena beams. "Thanks, Care."

"It's not a defense. I'm not defending you, I'm just saying we can laugh about it later. You're the one that _shot _yourself in the _foot_."

Damon snickers. "And, while that was extremely entertaining in hindsight," he says as they begin to run harder after a quick look behind them at their pursuers, "I do believe the zombies are beginning to catch up, if that's possible. They can't even _run_. What the hell? Anyway. Elena gave them a sound to attract them, and the smell of blood coming from her foot can't be helping."

Elena pumps her one working leg harder, doing a half-skipping, half-hopping move to keep up as best she can.

"Oh, please," Katherine says, sighing and bending down. "Hop up. None of these guys is man enough to carry you, I guess I'll have to do it."

Elena hesitates for about five seconds before a moan coming from about fifty feet away alerts her to the zombies' nearby presence. Then she reluctantly climbs onto Katherine's back. "This is too weird," she mumbles to herself as Katherine begins leading everyone on the run.

"No, this is me being awesome despite the fact that you accused me of causing you to shoot yourself in the foot and thereby have us chased to our eventual deaths," Katherine replies dryly. "So you damn well better be thankful."

Caroline is the one to hide a snicker this time. "Let's _go_," she complains. "C'mon, the office building can't be _this_ far away, _can _it?"

"Apparently," Stefan mutters through gritted teeth.

"Would you quit being mad at me?" Elena hisses.

"I'm…not…mad," Stefan replies, making sure to stop grinding his teeth in between words. "Just…displeased, I suppose." He sighs, expelling a harsh and heavy breath while thinking hard. "We really don't have time for this. We'll talk about how I'm not mad later, okay?"

"Fine," Elena relents, clinging tighter as she weaves her arms around Katherine's neck. Katherine just sighs, rolls her eyes up into her head, and keeps going.

* * *

They burst into the office and run up the stairs, shooting all of the zombies that get too close. It doesn't matter anyway—the shot and blood caused a ton of zombies to start chasing them. See, the University of Miami boasts about thirteen thousand students—not even counting faculty—and they've seen a tiny percentage of that. Really. Just a couple hundred. But…that's enough to kill them all dozens of times over.

"Let's just never come to a college campus again," Caroline pants.

"Agreed," says Damon as they round a corner to climb another floor of stairs. The two of them are in step, though Katherine is beginning to lag behind a bit thanks to Elena's additional weight on her shoulders, literally.

Caroline glances over her shoulder. Sure, Katherine's behind a bit, but her face is determined and she's definitely not going to give up or anything. They keep running. There's nothing else they can do until they reach the office.

* * *

They're all still panting when Alaric and Stefan introduce everyone to everyone else, explain the situation to each other, and begin to pace, making plans. "We could always jump off the roof," Damon suggests, mostly joking to lighten up the dark mood that's taken place now.

Stefan just gives him a dark look and continues pacing and brooding, pursing his lips.

"Actually, that's not a half-bad idea," Matt responds. "We could use rope and an arrow or something in order to make a pathway to the roof of a lower building. Then we could go across it, you know, like zip-lining or something."

"Except below us is concrete and therefore probably instant death, considering how many floors this building has," Stefan butts in.

Matt shrugs. "It was just an idea. You come up with a better one."

Meanwhile, Caroline looks up from where she's tweezing the bullet fragments out of Elena's damaged foot. "You're so lucky you didn't shatter your foot," Caroline says, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "And that you could sort of hop-skip-jump part of the run here. And that I took a medical course a few months ago and sort of know how to do this."

"Sort of?" Elena squeaks, but doesn't move upon pain of death due to Caroline's patented _You Better Obey Me_ glare.

Caroline begins bandaging the wound. "Yup. I would recommend not wearing your sneaker for a while. This is gonna swell, big time. We definitely need to give near an ice machine sometime soon. Or the polar ice caps, at least that way it would be deserted of the undead," she jokes. "Anyway, you're probably gonna need to be carried most of the way. And I'm seriously worried about what you'll do if they really _do_ set up that zip-line thing on the roof. You just better hope your hands are tough enough that you won't need your legs for extra grip."

"Thanks," Elena says sarcastically. "I feel so much more confident. Oh my god, I'm so gonna fall to my death."

"I won't let that happen," Matt promises from the other side of the room. "Nobody will."

Elena takes in his honest, smiling face. "Okay." She smiles. He just has that trustworthy look about him.

"But, guys," Alaric interrupts, even as Jenna clings to his hand and he responds with a gentle warm smile, "even if that zip-line idea _does_ work, we still have to distract the zombies, otherwise they'll figure out what's going on and just move buildings. Zombies are stupid and slow, from what we can gather, but, c'mon. The scent of blood on Elena isn't _that_ hard to follow, especially with their instinctual heightened sense of smell."

Elena bit her lip. "I could always just…stay here."

"Martyrs aren't allowed in this group," Alaric replied sternly. "Eventually, martyrs end up sacrificing other people, too, and that's the last thing we need. No martyring."

"But—"

"—do you honestly think anyone here would let you stay here and die?" Alaric interrupts. "No. Someone would come back in the middle of the operation to save you or something and get themselves killed, and probably everyone else, too. No. It's best if everyone goes. We just need some sort of distraction."

"And that means that someone has to stay," Katherine says what everyone is thinking but no one wants to say.

Bonnie raises her voice above its usual soft rich alto warmth, to something cold and hard and survival-oriented. "Then I guess someone has to choose to stay."

Jeremy breaks in with an offer, as do Caroline, Stefan, Damon, Jenna, and, well, pretty much everyone. Quietly, Katherine begins to gather up her things: her crossbow, several guns, a few of Alaric's clips, and a knife.

"Katherine?" Stefan interrupts as his eyes focus on her moving form, voice almost cracked and vulnerable. "What are you doing?"

There's a sudden silence.

"Oh, come on," Katherine says. "We all know this is what would eventually happen. I'm the stranger. I'm the fighter. I'm the bitch. It's just the way the world works. If I don't go now, I'll end up singing campfire songs with all of you or killing Elena in her sleep or something. It's best if I go now, and, hell, what better way to go?"

Stefan is breathless, unsure of why his heart rate has sped up so much. "Katherine, you can't—"

"—I can," she murmurs, moving closer to him until their bodies are just barely brushing. She's swaying the slightest bit, as though dizzy with anticipation and perhaps fear. "And I am. Tell Anna—" her eyes move to his lips. "Oh, she knows. Tell her I said goodbye. And, hey, who knows?" she breaks out into a grin that hides almost all of her fear. "I'll probably be back. Even zombies can't take me down."

With that, she leans in for a kiss, stealing Stefan's mouth and running her tongue up and down his delectable trapper. Unconsciously, he leans into the kiss, unaware of Elena's stare upon them, and she grips the back of his neck as he moves his hand forward to cup her cheek.

Just before his touch grazes her, she steps back, breaking the contact and offering up a small, hopeful smile. "Don't give up, you guys. I'll see you soon, one way or the other," Katherine says. "But don't come back to this campus. Never a good idea. And be fast. You don't have much time." And then she's gone, out the door. Out of their lives, in all probability.

Stefan takes a deep breath. "Let's go."

His fingers wander up to his mouth in wonder and regret.

* * *

Matt and Alaric set up the system, as they know the best way to do so. Damon bumps his brother in the shoulder, still trying to lighten the moment. "What was that, huh? That lip and tongue action you got back there, though I noticed you barely even responded? Did I mix up the twins-that-aren't?" he grins evilly.

"No, you didn't," Stefan says, almost sadly. "She just…wanted to say goodbye. And besides," he halfheartedly defends, "I didn't really have _time_ to respond."

"You just aren't letting yourself think about it."

"I can't," Stefan says. "I have a girlfriend and she's probably going to die in a few minutes and I, I just, I can't."

"I can understand that," Damon says quietly. "Circumstances that prevent you from being with someone you're…intensely attracted to, to say the least." Thoughts of Caroline's perfect body of his dreams invade his mind, and he feels himself shaking his head, clearing out the images as much as possible. (Not much.) "Not much you can do there."

"Where?" Caroline interrupts, catching the last bit of the conversation and stepping between the two brothers.

Damon hesitates. "Nowhere," he finally says, giving her a vague half-smile to shut her up. "C'mon, looks like Matt and Alaric have that thing rigged up."

They do. It's a slow, long process of everyone inching across the rope across the fifty foot chasm. Below are a few stray wandering zombies—the horde is at the door of the office building—that don't look up because none of them are stupid enough to make any noise. Stefan is the last to cross, and as he reaches the final few inches before he can drop to safety on the roof of the arts building, he hears something that nearly makes him lose his balance.

It's a woman's scream.

No. Not a scream. A war cry.

His smile is thin-lipped and unsure, but if anyone can survive a hundred or so zombies and end up tracking them, it's Katherine, from what he can tell. He'll give her the benefit of the doubt, for now. He drops onto the roof.

* * *

Jenna wraps herself around Alaric, and with any other couple it would be an awkward dance but they manage to walk down the stairs glued to each other's sides perfectly well. Everyone else is almost envious. Elena's foot gives out ("Well, of _course_," Caroline says, covering up her slight sadness over Katherine, who she had liked, with sarcasm, "I'm not a _miracle worker_, and I got a B in that class!") on the fifth step, and Matt ends up grabbing her and catching her fall. He scoops Elena up in his arms, flashing Caroline a cheesy smile that makes her laugh from the sheer silliness of it. It's a strange sound in the empty, echoing staircase that spins down in a spiral that makes you dizzy, when no one else is speaking.

Bonnie and Jeremy are quietly discussing how to break the news to Anna that her sister might possibly be dead. And no one wants to join in that conversation. No one wants to believe. So they drop it. They will…they will find out later, if nothing else. They can't hide the news from her forever.

Damon drapes his black leather jacket over her shoulders when he catches her shivering yet again after they exit the building. "You've been cold all day," he says to her as she tugs it on. "Think of it as a guarantee that I'll give back the hair gel. It's like…temporary compensation."

She holds back a smile. "Don't think this will stop me from telling everyone about your dream later."

He grins and pretends to shove her. But it doesn't miss his notice that he didn't even seriously consider such a gentlemanly offer (well, maybe, but come on, he's no Romeo and that's just too sappy) until Matt made her smile like that. And he is, if anything, possessive.

He has a feeling that will end up in his dreams later, too.

* * *

Anna is sitting in the driver's seat, gunshot cocked and at the ready when they approach. There are a few dead zombies on the ground near the car, and the window is rolled down, and they have bullets perfectly aimed between their eyes. She slowly lowers it and takes in the new faces of the group: Alaric and Matt. After introductions, she cranes her neck around. "Wh-where's Katherine?" she asks quietly, voice small, lips slightly turned up in the faint hope that this is a joke. The universe isn't this cruel. She can't have that much foresight and the world isn't that unkind.

Except this is the apocalypse, or it's supposed to be, and so the world _can_ be that unkind.

And her sister might be dead or might not be, and these people didn't even check and they aren't going to because it isn't safe right now, but her sister "is a warrior" and "a great girl" and "a bitch, but she saved our lives," so is that supposed to make it okay? Are these words, put into their mouths by a need to say something, supposed to make her feel better?

They don't. And why the hell can't she stop gasping for breath?

It's only when she touches her face to wipe at her eyes that she realizes that she's been somehow moved to the backseat, and they're driving, and she's been crying this whole time and never even knew it. And her forehead burns from where Katherine last pressed a kiss to it, a wordless goodbye.

"She said your name," Stefan says. "And goodbye."

As if that's supposed to help. That just makes it _worse_, if possible.

* * *

They stop at a hotel later that night, a college hotel with only a dozen or so zombies in it. A few gunshots later and they're all clear. It's actually more of a lodge than anything, which is strange considering that it's Florida they're in, after all, but they deal with it. The top floor has five rooms and a gigantic living room in the middle with a huge fireplace in it (which is great considering that the heating is dead) so they stay in the top floor. It's the most obvious choice, anyway, considering they'll have the higher ground advantage should any hordes end up coming their way.

Bedroom partners are randomly selected, except in Jenna and Alaric's case. As soon as everyone has entered the room and the door to the top floor has been locked, they saunter away, facing each other. The way they move, like magnets, it's almost like a dance. Neither of them can take their eyes off of each other.

Meanwhile, Anna and Caroline end up sharing a room. The other roomies are Elena and Bonnie, Jeremy and Matt, and Stefan and Damon. It's really just the easiest option.

_And possibly also the stupidest_, Caroline thinks, sighing as she and Anna—the girl is still crying, though she's trying to lessen it a bit—enter the bedroom. _Give the mourning girl and the girl who screams with her nightmares the same bedroom? Either they're compartmentalizing or they're just plain idiots._

Though, then again, think of who makes up the group.

"Anna," she whispers after the light has been turned off. She's in a twin bed and Anna is in the other, where the beds are separated only by a nightstand with the lamp on it. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," is the quiet response a few seconds later. "I just want to sleep. I didn't…I didn't really sleep when I was in the car. Didn't know what was happening, I didn't—I couldn't rest not knowing if you guys, if _she_ was safe. So I…" a deep breath. "I just want to go to bed."

Caroline bites her lip but gives in. What can she do? Force the girl to talk about a sister that she possibly lost today? She wants to comfort her, wants to tell her that they'll go back tomorrow to check, but what if the horde comes swarming over them? They've discussed this, and they know it's a risk that Katherine won't—or perhaps the more accurate term is wouldn't have—approve. So they won't do it.

She rolls over and tries to go to sleep, tries to ignore the quiet tears of the girl in the twin bed next to hers. She can still hear the almost silent crying, however, and it's enough that the only dreams in her head are nightmares tonight.

* * *

A/N: I debated posting this tomorrow, but you guys have all been so kind in waiting patiently. I haven't gotten any prodding or yelling or anything! So I'm kind of waiting for it. But, once you get past sharply reprimanding me in your review that you will hopefully give me, tell me what you thought! Stefan clearly developed a little thing for Katherine as time went on, didn't he? No matter how much he tried to deny it. :)

Also, I tried to give Elena a little more 3-D value here. Mostly because at first I just made her sleep a lot and then I made her a jealous girlfriend. Here, I made her a jealous girlfriend who's so clumsy she shoots herself in the foot but also retains that martyr gene that we all hate/love-to-hate about her in the show.

I wasn't quite sure about the Alaric and Jenna scene. I definitely worked on it the hardest, so I hope it's good, but I could picture it perfectly and I was just quite frustrated with my inability to put it perfectly. But I think I came close enough that it all worked out for the best, so I hope you enjoyed it! Please remember to review, even if it's just for yelling at me for taking so long! :)

Also: the title is taken from the song I used to write the reunion scene, and is mostly meant to describe Jenna's feelings for Alaric during the scene. Thus why it is the chapter name. :)

ONE MORE THING. If you're freaking out about Katherine...well...all will be revealed in due time. I promise. :) Though I don't believe that I'm finished with her just yet. Not quite. :)


	7. we weigh out these scars

A/N: So...I typed this up super fast. I don't even know how it happened. I just...well, I wrote the last chapter after such an irregularly long pause, and I guess I got the "zombie and Daroline" juices in my brain flowing. All I know is that I started writing this in the middle of the day and couldn't stop for quite a while.

Anyway, like I said a couple of chapters earlier, the one hundredth reviewer gets a request. So... _**CayleeElizabeth**_, if you have a special request, I promise that I will incorporate it as soon as possible if you tell me in a review within the next four to five days.

Thank you all so much for being patient with me and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

_we weigh out these scars_

–Rob Thomas, "Sleep Till the War is Over"

* * *

Alaric crawls up the bed, grinning deviously, bending over his lover and pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat seductively. "I missed this," he mumbles into her neck between kisses. "Missed _you_." He dots another few kisses across the slope of her neck to the length of her shoulder and down her upper arm, balancing on his elbows steadily.

Jenna smiles faintly under the administration of his loving and rolls them both over in a sudden display of dominance. She's on top now, whispering, "Me, too," and kissing him harder. He rolls over to pounce on top of her once more. They kiss once again, diving into each other's bliss and taking comfort in each other's arms.

There are so many other words left unsaid between them, as always, but there's time now. They have all night. And they don't plan to waste it, not for one second. Blind to others' guilt and deaf to others' sadness, they spend the whole night thanking whatever's left of this universe that they are both still alive and human and _together_ now.

* * *

It's dark and cold inside in the building. She almost wonders how Jenna, Jeremy, Bonnie, Alaric, and Matt all dealt with it while they were stuck in here. But, then again, her clothes have been ripped and a lot more of her skin has been exposed in the last couple of hours.

"Goddamn zombies," she mutters to herself as she hugs herself tightly so that her arms can spread the circulation. "Goddamn _cold_."

The moaning outside keeps her awake throughout the night.

* * *

Caroline wakes up crying. It didn't happen in the janitor's closet last night with Damon in there with her (for reasons she can't explain, but she denies that Damon's presence has to do with anything) but the nightmare has returned and is echoing in her head now: Tyler's moans, her father's dead dark eyes, blood and fear and what Liz must have looked like with a gun pressed to her head. And more.

She wipes away the saltwater furiously, scrubbing her face with the back of her knuckles. She quietly exits the room, seeing as how Anna is still fitfully sleeping and she doesn't want to disturb the poor younger girl while she maybe possibly probably cries for the next twenty minutes. She leaves the hallway and sits on the couch of the living room, shoulders slumped with exhaustion and eyes still drying. She remains unaware of Elena watching from the cracked bedroom door with a shocked expression on her face at the display of devastation and exhaustion in front of her eyes.

* * *

He crawls into her bedroom because Matt is snoring peacefully and he can hear her crying through the walls. "Are you okay?" he whispers, because the crying stopped when he opened the door and he knows that she's awake now.

"No," she whispers back, a disembodied hoarse voice in the dark.

He crosses the room and turns the lamp on. She's curled up on the side of the bed closest to the lamp—the right side, and she's lying on her right side too so she faces the light—and she winces for a second when the light flickers on. Her eyes are slightly red and there are tear tracks running down her cheeks. "Do you…do you need something? Anything I can do?" he asks uncertainly. This is no longer the beautiful, sexy, confident and courageous girl that introduced Elena to her doppelganger or twin or whatever. This isn't the girl who fought for the right to get out of the car but accepted it when her sister asked her to. This isn't the Anna he met, is it?

This is a girl who has possibly lost her adoptive sister, the only person she's been depending on for who-knows-how-long. A girl with no home…not anymore.

"No." Her voice is mournful and empty and aching. Hollow and hurting and he wishes he could help.

He climbs into the bed behind her and allows her to lean her back against his chest. He reaches out and lays an arm comfortingly across her waist. Quietly, she reaches up and switches the light off. He waits for her to start crying again, but she just silently lies in his arms. "You know, it's okay if you want to—" he begins, remembering the words Jenna told him and Elena after his parents' deaths and their thunderstruck reaction, unsure of how to grieve.

"—I don't," she interrupts softly. "I'm done crying for now. I just…I just want to lay here."

_With you_ goes unsaid, but it doesn't need to be spoken for both of them to hear it in the dark silent room. It resonates awkwardly, like an elephant you can't acknowledge because it doesn't really exist. He holds on to her tighter, chin propped on her shoulder.

"It's just, I don't want to be alone anymore, Jeremy," she whispers. "Before Katherine…and now…I just, I can't. Not anymore."

"You won't be, I'm right here," he tries to soothe.

"No, you don't get it," she murmurs quietly, playing with the top of the bedcovers as she tugs them up to her shoulder and to his chin. "I'm a foster kid, and I was raised in a bad system with bad parents. I've been alone all my life. Do you even know why kids like me hang around other people? It's not just to give everybody a one way ticket out of lonerhood, okay? One, we need someone to do our dirty work. Two, revenge. Three, boredom, but you know that never turns out well. And then, you know, there's the obvious one - you love someone so much that you would do anything to stay with them. I'm sorry, but you don't fit any of those categories yet." She stops, hesitating.

Thunder cracks outside, and the sound of rain hitting the rooftops is a welcome change to the silence. "I love storms," she murmurs, breathing it in as though she's outside in the rain. "So…chaotic. Kinda like me." She chuckles. "Kinda like Katherine, too."

He just curls his arm around her tighter, ignores the words she's said and hasn't said, and, despite of it all, he sleeps.

And eventually, so does she.

* * *

Damon wanders into the living room after a particularly loud crack of thunder wakes even him, the deepest sleeper in the world according to Stefan, and he can't return back to sleep. (He supposes he's just on high alert, considering their worldwide situation at the moment, and for the foreseeable future. Not to mention, the thought of the hot blonde a few rooms down doesn't make sleep easy or satisfying.) What greets his eyes is a tired Caroline as she stares into the flickering flames of the fireplace he lit when they first entered the hotel floor. "You're still up?" he questions.

"No, I'm sleepwalking." Her eyes are dead and tired and cold, and they hide something bitter, something sad.

He gives her a blank stare, rewarded when she looks away first. Ha. Only the weak crumble that fast…or the vulnerable. "I feel like we should give this place a mood," he muses. "Play some Sinatra, light some candles, get the romance going for Jenna and Alaric…"

Just then, there is a particularly loud thud from the room where Jenna and Alaric are.

"You know, if the storm hadn't woken me up, I bet they would have," he continues. "I feel like I should plug my virgin ears."

"I have no doubt about the truth in that statement, especially the 'virgin' part," Caroline replies dryly, eyes still trained on the flames as they shoot up and down with no sense of rhythm or reason. "Besides, they don't need anything to get the romance going."

Damon sits next to her but leaves several inches for breathing room. He doubts she's the cuddling type, and they've already established that he never has been before. "I kinda wonder what they're doing in there—" he says, rubbing his jaw as he thinks, "I mean, what do you think that thud was?"

"People generally do crazy stuff after an apocalypse, I would imagine," she says. "Especially when they love each other and haven't seen each other in weeks or months. Though you probably shouldn't be wondering what they're doing in the bedroom. That's a little creepy."

He tilts his head. "Yeah, I guess so."

There's another loud thud that accompanies the chorus of raindrops on the roof.

"You know—" he starts mockingly, but she interrupts.

"—look, Damon, Katherine could be dead right now. And I know that I'm the poster child for being sarcastic in a depressing situation, but even I can figure out that this is not a good time to joke around. You may not have liked the bitch, but she and I got along for the couple of hours that we knew each other. We're both smart and sarcastic and sad and—" she catches herself, but he catches it too. She continues on as though nothing is out of the ordinary with her words. "Anyway, we…we got along. And I don't even get _why_ she sacrificed herself. She barely knew us. She had Anna waiting for her."

Damon decides to ignore her "sad" self-description in favor of answering the questions, because, um, hello? He's still not good with crying girls. Or angry girls. Or depressed girls. Or any girl that wants to cuddle more than she wants to make out.

"Stefan was a few seconds away from offering himself up," he says. "I could see it in his eyes, the way he opened his mouth like he was gonna volunteer. And Katherine saw it too."

Caroline looks up from her gaze that has been steadily trained on her hands and meets his eyes successfully for the first time since the failed staring contest. "She really cared about him," she says quietly. "She was rude and mean and she acted like a bitch toward Elena, but she did nice things for her and for Stefan and for all of us. She saved our lives. And now she could be dead."

"Yeah," he finally says, unsure of what else there could possibly be to say.

"She doesn't deserve this," she says heatedly. "People that give and forgive and actually trust in people when they shouldn't…they shouldn't have to be left behind! They shouldn't have to give everything up for people that don't care! They shouldn't have to watch their boyfriends come back to life moaning and mindless! I—" her voice catches and she takes in a deep breath. "Katherine didn't deserve to get left behind like that."

"She didn't give us any choice," Damon replies. "She ran out of the room before anyone could stop her. What were we going to do, run out into the horde after her?"

Her breath hitches.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, _hey_," he says quickly, trying to prevent that action from repeating. "There was nothing _you_ could have done, so quit thinking that you could have stopped her. You couldn't have. You couldn't have done anything and you need to remember that. Sometimes you just can't save people and you have to learn to live with it."

She lifts her head up and meets his eyes. Hers are bigger than usual and there are traces of red around them; he knows she's been crying, knows it like he knew it that other night in the other hotel after the same nightmare. "I'm not losing anyone else," she whispers. Her voice gets stronger. "I'm not losing anyone else," she repeats, and looks him straight in the eye. "I can't take losing anyone else in this group. I've already lost everything else…we all have. We can't lose anyone else. We're getting Katherine back, and we're keeping everyone safe. From now on…no unnecessary risks. No damn campuses. And no more fucking zip-lines, because that was freaking scary."

He laughs. "Absolutely. I think Alaric was the only one who actually _knew_ how to do that. He's like a master warrior, drinker, and he's a history professor. How does that even _happen_?"

"Good with the ladies, too. It's just a mystery of life, I guess. Some guys get it good and others just have to have dreams about it." She bumps him playfully in the shoulder, trying to ease the tension with a joke.

Damon returns it with a small indulging smile that looks more like a grimace as her arm connects with his. His skin dances, tingling like he just passed it over a small flame. If he were a teenage girl who read vampire stories, he'd call it _sparks_. But he's not that idiotic. So he just tries to ignore it. "So what do we do now?" he asks.

All of a sudden, the tension is even more magnified. She shrugs but the expression she gives him is both determined and gentle. "I'm going to bed. I'm taking one of the sleeping pills that Elena gave me. And in the morning, when we siphon more gasoline out of the parking lot and everybody's eaten a decent meal for once, we're going back to the campus and looking for Katherine."

He smiles. "I think that's a good plan."

They sit, side by side, still not touching but closer than they were before in more ways than one.

* * *

Jeremy awakens in the middle of the night to a particularly loud crack of thunder. He checks his watch and it's almost dawn. Anna is sleeping peacefully in his arms. Her eyes are no longer quite so swollen as they were before, and the tear tracks from earlier have disappeared entirely. Sometime in the night she turned, and she's resting on his chest as he lies on his back. Her hand is curled over his chest where his heart would be and her head rests on his right shoulder. She's even almost smiling in his sleep.

This feels…comfortable. It feels good. And it feels forbidden.

Just a few doors down, Bonnie and Elena are whispering into the night their secrets and their stories and their fears. They might even be talking about him, if Elena can stand to talk about her brother as a possible romantic interest. (Ew.)

And the guilt he feels almost overshadows the comfort he takes in Anna breathing in the scent of his t-shirt and smiling in her sleep.

Almost, but not quite.

* * *

She sneaks into his room after Bonnie falls asleep. The light's still on and Damon's out of the room, so she guesses that he's in the kitchen or something. "Stefan?" she asks softly, seeing that he's up.

He's sitting up in bed, propped against the pillows and reading the copy of the Bible left complimentarily by the hotel back when people still lived in it. It looks so familiar and domestic that it makes her chest ache. It looks…normal, in a world that is so far from normal that she hasn't even really processed it yet. She doesn't think any of them have, except Caroline, Anna, and Jenna.

Stefan looks up at her voice, pulling the reading glasses perched on his nose (his father gave them to him before his death) off of his face and smiling at her. "Hey, 'Lena. What is it?" At her momentarily silence, he grows a little more concerned. "Did you have a nightmare? I know today was stressful in so many ways, but—"

"No, it's not that," she interrupts to prevent an infamous Stefan speech, long and awkward and endearing (but now's not the time). "I wanted…I wanted to talk about the kiss, actually."

His jaw doesn't drop, exactly, but it definitely takes the definition of s_lackening_ to the extreme. "Katherine sacrificed herself…for all of us…and you want to talk about the fact that she _kissed _me?" he asks incredulously.

"I know you didn't mean to do it!" she defends herself and him. "Or want to."

Stefan looks down at his blanket-covered lap, unable to respond.

"But it's important that we talk about _why_ she did it," she continues on, not even noticing his lack of reply or his inability to give one. "I know she liked you. It was obvious. She was trying to make me jealous, and—"

"—and she succeeded—"

"—and that's not the _point_. I want to know why you kissed _back_."

He scrambles. "Look, Elena, I'm here with _you_. I'm dating _you_. I won't deny that I've felt attracted to other women, but I've never acted on them. And we agreed when we started dating that it's okay to feel attraction. It's actions that define who we are."

"Exactly. And _you_ kissed back. That's the action of yours that I have to base my entire perspective off of, so I suggest you give me a reason why you did it."

"Because. Because it was her dying wish. Because I wanted to give her what might possibly be her last good memory. Because she might be dead right now. I don't know. Because she looked so vulnerable and I wanted to give her one happy moment before she went off fighting to her death to save _our_ asses." He shakes his head. "Elena, come on. You know I would never cheat on you. I care about you too much for that."

"I know that!" she insists. "But…Tyler cared about Caroline, too."

He tightens his eyes to prevent himself from saying something _too_ nasty. "And you were the one that kissed back, weren't you? You told me the story. You were Katherine in that story, so who are you to judge me for what someone else did? Who are you to consider my actions when you've done the same? Elena, I love you, but you're being hypocritical here."

Elena is taken aback. She physically steps back from him. "Oh…I, I. Okay." She turns and flees.

Stefan sighs and buries his head in his hands. He's useless with women, and even worse with Elena in particular. He's just been short with her lately, and he doesn't know why. He doesn't know how to make her trust him, especially since he tried not to flirt back with Katherine. The response to her kiss that he gave…that was just a reaction. An instinct.

Right?

* * *

Elena sighs and curls up into a ball on her bed after she turns off the lamp. Bonnie is sleeping contentedly in her twin bed, murmuring things like _when do I get a gun_ and _Jer_ and _somebody grab the butter_.

Yeah, Bonnie's weird like that.

She doesn't _understand_. Of course she _trusts_ Stefan. But she knows boys' actions better than anyone; she remembers how stupid boys are. And Stefan's smart and trustworthy, but at the end of the day he's still a guy, and he can still make stupid decisions just like anyone else.

It's Katherine that she doesn't trust. Katherine, who kissed her boyfriend. Katherine, who didn't even apologize for it. Katherine, who left without so much as an explanation.

The words click in her head and she suddenly understands _why_ Caroline hasn't contacted her in years. She really was the previous Katherine in her little Elena-Tyler-Caroline situation from a few years before.

The guilt begins to come back fiercer than before, but she swallows it down. That is not the situation now. Stefan kissed another girl—or, to be technical, he kissed her back, but _still_—and he might want more. He might choose Katherine, if she's still alive.

And the worst part is, she's unsure if she even wants Stefan to still choose her. She loves him, but is she _in_ love with him?

And is Stefan still _in _love with her?

The only thing she can do is forgive him and hope that he still is. Because whether or not she's indecisive…she doesn't want to let him go. Not even for blond hair and an all-American smile that makes her stomach flutter.

Stefan is the best thing that she has right now, and she isn't going to let that go because of a possible crush and a kiss that he didn't even initiate. She isn't going to give up. _No martyrs_, Alaric said, and she's taking that to heart. Martyrs give up things, and she's not giving up on Stefan.

Comforted by the certainty in that sentiment, she tries to sleep and dream of something other than those kind blue eyes and strong arms carrying her down a staircase.

* * *

"What was it like for you?"

"Are you talking about the sex? Great. Fantastic. Let me find more synonyms, gimme a second."

"No!" he laughs. "I meant…when this whole 'zombie' thing first started. What happened?"

Her eyes tighten and she inches back from him—just an inch, but he notices and it matters that she's physically pulling away from him on this subject. "It was panicking. Everybody was hysterical. Technology shut off before I got to really talk to you, and after that all hell broke loose. Before I knew it, everyone else in the neighborhood was zombie-fied or whatever. The six-year-olds having a princess-themed birthday party down the street chased down the mailman. They were wearing the crowns and floor-length hot pink dresses and everything. It was funny and scary at the same time.

"My neighbor—my _friend_—tried to _eat_ me. And for a second I almost let her, you know? I almost…I was too caught up in it, I didn't understand what was happening," she says, almost frantically, pleading for him to understand. "I barely shot her in time to stop her from biting me. And then I realized, _I can't become that. I have to protect these kids. I have to protect my kids and find Alaric and keep surviving._

"I realized I can't become a victim of this, not while I have people to protect and love and live for." She's speaking into his warm bare chest right now, afraid to look at him. She gives him a bittersweet smile that he feels in his skin. "You know, the fear and the panic hit later. I kept getting so afraid that you would be Turned and I would never know. I would never find out because I'd probably get Turned, too. I couldn't sleep well. I couldn't quit biting my lip. The others looked at me like they were scared of me, and we had to keep stopping so we could shoot zombies in the middle of the road, you know? I tried to take back roads so there wouldn't be so many, but there were always enough to make it hard to breathe. Enough to make me think that I would never see you again.

"That was what it was like for me."

He curls his arms around her tighter. "I'm so sorry, Jenna."

"Hey, don't be. We all get hurt by the game, right? We just have to keep playing for as long as we can and as hard as we can." She lets him hold her, though, and doesn't say anything when he practically squeezes the life out of her to assure her that he is there and not leaving. "What was it like for you?"

He grins. "The sex was awesome, as usual. But the zombies?" His smile fades. "Not so awesome. I came back to campus after I heard the news reports because I wanted to save everyone I could. But…hey, colleges. There were only a few kids left in the office building when I got there, and I was trapped by the group of them outside. It would take out a significant amount of the bullets I had, so I decided to wait as long as possible for them to get sluggish from lack of meat." He sighs. "Most of the kids had been bitten. All of them except for Matt, anyway. We waited and then we shot the ones that Turned. And then we started collecting weapons so we could blast out way out of here."

Jenna breaks out into a smile. "My daredevil gun-totin' son-of-a-bitch amazing lover."

"You know it, sweetie." He presses a kiss into her hair, smirking, a mixture of arrogance and sweetness in the same sentence. "I missed you and your ridiculous descriptions of me, however truthful they may be."

"Um, thanks."

He smiles wordlessly and holds her just a bit looser, enough for her to breathe easier as she falls asleep on him. And soon after, he sleeps as well, which is good because they have to get up in a couple of hours.

Meanwhile, dawn breaks.

* * *

The sun is a welcome return. She had to spend the night hiding out in the office, where she just barely managed to close the doors so that the horde wouldn't get in. She's taken out a decent amount of their numbers, but it's been hard considering the fact that she's exhausted and more keep smelling her blood pumping and wandering out of the other buildings to join the group and come after her.

As soon as dawn is fully broken, she comes out of the office building door, bullets immediately flying and bodies dropping. She uses her arrows to stab at the closest ones, considering that she can pluck them out quickly and reuse them. Bullets are a one-time-only offer, and a limited supply.

She's busy pulling an arrow out of an obese fifty-something-year-old woman wearing a prune-colored suit and matching tie when she feels cold and clammy fingers around the back of her neck. She turns from where she's bent over the dead zombie and finds herself faced with another one. This one has stringy blond hair hanging around in its face. Its green peace-sign-shaped earrings are dangling from its ears—one of which has almost lost the lobe, which is hanging on by a string of skin and nerve endings that the zombie can no longer feel. It's female, judging by the sports bra strap exposed by the torn shirt it's wearing and the bedazzled jeans. Its shoes are high heels, one of which has lost its heel as it drags itself around.

The zombie _grins_ at her with decayed teeth and knocks her to the ground. They struggle in a wrestling match for a moment, and Katherine should be the clear winner except she's been caught off-guard and the zombie is stronger than it looks. Its eyes are glazed and dead but its mouth is open and it's snapping at Katherine as they fight.

Finally, Katherine manages to push her off and reaches for a gun. Calmly, she waits for the zombie to get closer as it crawls on its hands and knees, and then she shoots it between the eyes. Satisfied, she blows on the barrel of the smoking gun, pantomiming a western movie she once saw. It probably starred John Wayne, but she feels a lot sexier than that.

It's about at this time, in which she is full of overconfidence, that a redheaded pale zombie finds its way into tackling her. She drops her gun in surprise. And this time, she isn't so lucky. The fight is harder and she can't reach for her arrows or gun without giving up her leverage. She'll have to let go of one of its arms and then it'll have a small opportunity. But if she waits much longer, she'll lose her strength and become even more exhausted than she already is. And the zombie will get an opportunity when she becomes weak anyway. No, best to do this while she still has the strength for it.

She lets go with both of her hands, reaching up and grabbing the clawing, moaning zombie by the chin with one hand as she uses her other hand to reach into her belt for her handgun. A faint sensation of pain floods into the pinky and ring finger of her left hand as she finally grabs hold of her handgun and gets a good grip on it. Without hesitating, she shoots it in the face.

She sits up, half hysterically laughing and half hysterically fighting off tears, when she sees the blood. And the teeth marks on her two fingers that the zombie managed to snap up for a few precious seconds. A few seconds is enough.

Without hesitating, she stands and runs for the office door, successfully dodging the other zombies milling around once they become alerted to her presence. She's barely able to get inside without them coming in after her. After a few minutes of struggle, she slams the door shut successfully. She locks the door, breathing in a sigh of relief before the situation begins to take hold of her mind.

_What can I do? What can I do? What can I do?_

_ I have to survive—for Anna, for Stefan, for myself. I have to find a way._

_ …Dammit, God, universe, whatever, this is the part where you give me a brilliant idea._

At that point, after a few seconds spent thinking uselessly, she comes up with something. It's definitely not "brilliant"—or smart or even safe. But it's an idea, and she doesn't have much time before the poison of the bite spreads farther up her arm.

And she'd rather lose just the two fingers than the whole hand, thanks very much.

She steels herself for the pain—no time to look for anesthesia or Tylenol in one of the many desks around—as she locks herself into a nearby first-floor office and takes a knife that Alaric gave her when they first met because she didn't have one. It's sharp and clean because she hadn't used it yet. She's hoping that he didn't use it before either—or that he cleaned it if he did, because that will make a world of difference. Infection would kill her. It might still kill her, either way.

Katherine takes a deep breath and sets the two fingers on the desk, separated from the other fingers of her hand by a good few inches. Finally, she raises the knife above them, hoping that she won't pass out. She can't afford to pass out. She has to clean it up and wrap it up to prevent infection, and then go back out there and get herself out of here. She has to…

…she has to _do_ this. Right _now_.

Closing her eyes and praying that her aim is true, she tries her best to ignore the roaring turmoil and dread growing in her stomach, and she slams the hand with the knife in it down towards the two damned fingers, cutting them. For a few seconds, she feels nothing, just sees the blood starting to well up and appear. And then…

…and then the pain is intense, and she screams. But the two fingers are just barely cut. She needs to do it again.

A second time, and they're just hanging on by a few muscles and tendons and whatnot.

She leans over and vomits into the trash can. After it's become more bile than substance, she wipes her mouth on the back of her hand and cuts at her extremities for a third time, and finally the fingers are separated from the rest of her hand.

The blood is horrifying. Knowing that it's come from her own body, she almost can't process it and the pain at the same time. She feels herself swaying from her standing position, and she forces herself to calm down slightly and steady herself. She's less lightheaded, but the pain makes it almost impossible to focus on anything else. She reaches quickly for the first aid kit hanging on the wall and finds gauze and other things she can use to wrap up her injuries. Wrapping it up takes a few precious minutes as she tries to halt the bleeding, and then she collapses into the swiveling chair behind the desk.

The two fingers, bloody and messy on the mouse pad connected to the useless computer (if technology still worked things would be so much easier), are making her want to vomit again, so she quickly picks up the mouse pad, unable to touch her own extremities, and dumps it in the trash can.

Outside, the moaning intensifies. They can smell her blood better now.

She walks over to the office door and locks it, sticking a chair under it for safety precautions like that night with Elena and Stefan. Thankfully, this is one of the rooms without windows. She returns back to the desk chair and collapses into it, swallowing back bile so that she doesn't start retching again. The agony is starting to fade slightly into an ache, and she wonders if that's her body's coping mechanism making her senses and nerves shut down.

She doesn't know much about that, but it's probably not a good thing.

But she's so so so tired. Exhausted.

She wishes Anna were here. When Anna's around, she has someone to focus on other than herself, someone to pretend not to care about when she secretly does. If Anna were here, she could concentrate on something else other than the pain, maybe, but now all she has is the dulled anguish torturing what's left of her hand.

Katherine's line of vision is replaced by her eyelids as she sees more than feels her eyes closing. She can't help it. She needs to sleep.

She doesn't dream.

Outside, the red angry dawn announces the start of a new day.

* * *

A/N: OMG so I totally had a few dramatic moments there! There were confrontations! There was pain! There was comfort! There was romance! Oh my god, I might be doing my job all right after all. ANYWAY, I hope you guys liked it a lot.

Also, if you're as obsessed with Anna as I am, you might have noticed that I used several quotes of hers. The "I love storms" one was an accident, I swear. The others were totally, geekily planned out. Because I am an Anna fangirl. Lol she and Caroline are tied for my favorite female vampire, with Katherine following in a steady second.

I hope you enjoyed it and please tell me what I can change to make it better! Tell me what you liked, disliked, abhorred, or loved! And most of all, please be patient with me! I'm trying, I swear I really am. Thank you. :)


	8. the burning in my blood

A/N: Hey, guys! This took longer than I planned and I sort of wrote it all very quickly in like one hour, but who even cares, okay. I'm mostly happy with it. Well, actually, that's not true, the whole one-hour thing. I wrote the first section of it in a cafe while a very nice guy did his act and sang in the background. It was very helpful for my muse. :)

But, yes, anyway, I am mostly pleased with the outcome of this. I believe that I fulfilled CayleeElizabeth's request, yay, and I also managed to create some parts that I myself enjoyed. I hope you all like it! Thank you.

* * *

_the burning in my blood _

–Paper Route, "Dance On Our Graves"

* * *

The scene is surreal when Matt pokes his head out of the door—for two reasons. One, there is a bustle of moving bodies in the kitchen he can see just past the hallway. Two, there is the smell of bacon burning.

Matt has never really had breakfast made for him before. He and Alaric lived off of the stale snacks in the vending machines during their time hiding out in the office. His entire two years of college consisted of ramen noodles, SpaghettiOs, and pizza. (Yes, those were his breakfast foods. Don't judge.) His parents have been gone for a long time, and whenever his mom was at home, _he_ was the one taking care of _her_ most of the time. And Vicki couldn't cook worth a damn. (He's eaten more Pop-Tarts in his life than he cares to admit.)

A quick scan of the bedroom reveals that his roommate, Jeremy (he identifies him in his head as "the one with the hair that would fit in with a boy band if there were any left"), left sometime during the night and didn't come back. Oh, well. He's the one missing out on this amazing smell.

He shuffles out in to the hallway only to run into Bonnie and Elena. The two girls are wearing sweatpants and cotton t-shirts. Bonnie's hair is a crazy tangled mess, and she looks like a sleepy Amazonian warrior queen with it. Elena is hobbling on the foot that isn't bullet-ridden, with her hand pressing into Bonnie's shoulder for support. She yawns and smiles at him, and then their eyes widen in synchronization.

All this he takes in before he realizes that he hasn't put a shirt on yet, and those comfy track shorts he threw into the backpack he's been carrying around all this time that he put on last night? Yeah, they're showing off a whole lotta leg.

"Ohmygod!" both girls mumble (they're not awake enough yet for a screech) and cover their eyes.

Caroline brushes by with hardly a glance (but she _does _give him one, he notices). "C'mon if you guys want breakfast. Damon and I found bacon. And eggs," she adds temptingly.

That's enough to get all three of them running toward the kitchen, leaving Caroline behind in the hallway, looking satisfied and maybe a little appreciative of the view she's getting of his football-training-toned calves.

* * *

Anna is warm, and she doesn't know why that is yet.

But she opens her eyes and finds her vision blocked by a spectacularly-sculpted, tanned chest.

_What?_

She slits her eyes upward and sees Jeremy's face, sweet and contented in sleep.

_Um. Um. Dammit._

His arms are around her, interlocked at her spine and she has to get up but his arms are holding her down. She can't move. But she has to get up. She's hungry and this is all kinds of awkward.

_Who knew Jeremy Gilbert slept shirtless?_ She certainly didn't notice it last night.

Last night. _Oh my God._

The memories flood back into her mind as soon as she even thinks about it. Jeremy comforting her. The drive home. Crying and crying. The storm, a beautiful tormenting reminder of long nights of "girl talks" and a fierce teasing grin. Curls and dark red lipstick and bitchiness and giggling and teasing and deflection and smirks.

_Katherine._

Oh, God. Katherine could be dead right now and she's admiring some boy's chest? What is _wrong_ with her?

She pokes Jeremy in the chest, no longer concerned with stealing his warmth (she's so cold no matter what) or the potential embarrassment of the situation. He stirs and groans something she can't decipher, but it sounds like "'_Lena, goway_." Finally, he moves successfully and blinks after about five more prods from her.

"Wha?" he asks blearily, and she'd think it was adorable if she weren't so lost. His eyes open wider once they focus on her. "Anna!" He scrambles for an explanation. "Anna—"

"That would be me," she says as dryly as possible. "This might be awkward, but I don't really care, so: let go?"

Immediately, he automatically unlocks his fingers and removes his arms from her back, releasing her from his soothing warmth. She sits up and rolls away.

"Um, Anna?"

She tilts her head and hops off the bed. "Yeah? What is it, Jeremy?" she asks, not unkindly but not kindly either.

"I'm sorry." He means the night they've spent together and the awkward situation, and she knows it.

"You are?" She faces the dresser where she dumped her duffel of clothes earlier. She pulls her t-shirt off and he averts her eyes from where he can see just her tanned, muscled back and plain white bra. Anna pulls another shirt on, gray and washed-out and dreary, and removes her sweatpants that she changed into to sleep in before pulling on a pair of black jeans. Again, he turns his face away to give her some privacy, which she would think was almost cute if she could see it and if she wasn't so detached as she focuses on her missing sister. She bends down and pulls on her sneakers, tugging on the laces.

"I think so," he says once he feels it's safe enough to look at her again.

She deflates a little, her back still to him as she opens the door of the bedroom that leads out into the hallway. "Oh. I wasn't." He can't see the expression on her face, but she sounds defeated, tired, and torn.

She wanders out into the hallway, leaving the door hanging wide open in her wake, and he wonders if he's just made a mistake.

* * *

_Everything burns._

Everything burns, she notices faintly as she wakes out of her drowsiness, as the dawn rises completely. Her entire body aches. And it's odd. She can feel her fingers. All freaking ten of them. Which shouldn't be physically possible. She looks down at where her hand should be, sees the ceiling, realizes she's looking up instead by mistake, and blearily glances down at her hand. Nope. Two of her fingers are still gone. But she can feel herself wiggling them.

_Phantom pains._ That's what they're called, isn't it? She never paid much attention in doctor's offices or in biology. And her fever's so high at the moment that she doubts she would be able to remember anything important if she'd ever even retained it.

_God_, where is everybody? And why can't she stand up? And why is she so tired all of a sudden? She closes her eyes and drifts back into a restless, scorching sleep.

* * *

"This is ridiculous," Anna announces once she reaches the table in the kitchen. She crosses her arms indignantly with just a touch of worry to them. "Katherine's in danger. I'm not eating any fucking eggs while Katherine could be—" she chokes for a second, hesitates but it's so quick that hardly anyone notices (everyone pretends not to notice, anyway). "—dying."

"She can barricade herself in the office building if necessary," Elena suggests. "Anna, none of us have eaten a real meal in, like, two weeks. We're living on soda, water bottles, and candy out of vending machines and glove compartments. The granola bars are getting pretty stale. We need to stop by a convenience store, too."

"While we're there can we pick up medical supplies?" Matt inquires.

"STOP!" Anna shouts. Everyone turns from their plate of eggs and bacon and stares at her. "Katherine could be _dying_," she says, voice deadly quiet and practically trembling. Her entire body is shaking. "And you guys are talking about going to a convenience store first? She could be Turning, right now, all alone and scared to death. You guys fucking left her, and I get that. Someone had to stay behind. But we've had plenty of time to reload and plan a rescue mission. And you guys are cooking. _Cooking._" Her voice drips with disgust. "That's it. When we get Katherine back—notice that's a _when_ and not an _if_—the two of us are leaving. You guys are too dangerous for my tastes and for her safety."

Turning, she stalks back toward her bedroom to pack the rest of her things.

Caroline clears her throat. "She's right," she says quietly.

As if by a general agreement—though there is an uncomfortable and tense silence—everyone starts placing their plates in the sink. There's really no need to wash them, they won't be coming back. Everyone returns to their rooms to pack everything. Everyone except for Caroline.

She goes to see Anna in the room they shared. "I'm not Jeremy," she begins awkwardly. The younger girl is standing with her back to Caroline, angrily stuffing dirty clothes into her bag. "I can't wrap my arms around you at night and make everything feel a little bit better. But…"

"You _saw_ that?" Anna sounds horrified and exactly her age. It's refreshing. Everyone's growing up too fast around here, and Caroline knows that better than anybody.

"I came back to bed just a couple of hours ago and saw you two cuddled up on the bed," Caroline snickers. "Look, I can't calm you down the way he did. And I won't ask you to stay if you don't want to."

"Good." Anna's voice is sharp as she turns back to zipping up her bag.

"But have you considered what Katherine might need?" she continues.

"Huh?"

"She might want to stay here with St—with everyone. She might need medical attention. Alaric and I are medically trained—we've both taken a course or two on it—and we might have to help her. It might be long-term. Not to mention, think about her psychological health after this. She might need help."

Anna shoulders her bag. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. But I'm pretty sure you guys are toxic. I didn't even know you for two days before you abandoned my sister to the fucking wolves."

With that, she leaves the room. Caroline sighs and starts to pack. Anger is a regular first reaction to the threat of losing something, or someone, that you care about. And she would know.

* * *

He avoids her during breakfast. Which, normally, she wouldn't have noticed, mind you. But she's spent practically the last two days holding his hand, and it's a little weird. Did she do something wrong? She approaches him and asks him that question, very bluntly and with no easy introduction to it.

Jeremy practically jumps. "Bonnie, no," he says, almost stammering. "I just…um…I…"

Bonnie raises her eyebrows. "You just, um, you…what?"

"I need time to…think."

"Think?" she challenges. "Fine. That's fine. Think all you want, that's your decision. But tell me why you _need_ to think about just _acknowledging _me. Jeremy, you've been my support system since this whole thing started. We're close, okay? Admit it. And I like you and I know you like me. It doesn't have to be anything more than what we've been, okay? And we could probably stand to be a little less. But I still need you around. Elena has her own stuff to deal with, and Caroline and I haven't been close for a long time. I couldn't ask that of her. But I've been depending on you. Don't let me down now, please." Her tone has become heartfelt and pleading.

He swallows and closes his eyes. "Okay. I won't. I'm sorry." The words are staccato, like a recording that he's memorized. "I just…didn't think. I'm sorry," he repeats.

She pats his arm, smiling. "It's okay. I'm just gonna go check and see how Matt's doing. He's getting some gas for the car and I'd hate for him to be unguarded." She walks away.

* * *

Matt is sucking the gas into the hose when she approaches. "Hey!" she calls cheerfully, and he chokes on the gasoline. Forcing it back into the hose, he reaches for the water bottle in his backpack and rinses his mouth out. She doesn't flinch when he spits the dirty water onto the parking lot ground. "I'm so sorry," she says, kneeling next to him beside the Ford that's going to get them back to the campus. "I didn't mean to potentially poison you or whatever."

He laughs and returns to his job. As soon as the gas is in the watering can that he's using the replace an actual preferred gas can—but the watering can will work, seeing as it's metal and he did learn a few things in college that aren't completely academic-related—he looks at her. Her t-shirt and jeans seem to make her dark eyes and chocolate curls stand out. She wears no makeup. Her beat-up shoes stick out, white and smudged against her black clothing. "Don't worry," he smiles at her. "I think I'll live."

Bonnie grins. "I hope so. If you don't, can I have your backpack? I bet there's some useful stuff in it."

Finishing up the job, Matt shrugs. "Just, like, half of Alaric's gun collection. The cheaper, smaller half, of course. Which is fine, by the way, don't tell him I said otherwise," he says hurriedly. "Um, a change of clothes, the shorts I was wearing this morning, some shoes, and a couple of granola bars. That's it. Not very useful."

"I'm sure some of it helps," she protests in defense of his backpack. "I happen to like granola."

He laughs. "Take mine, then. I'm sick of it and it's only been a few weeks. I was on better terms with ramen noodles after two years of them."

"Regular college diet," she says with a knowing, patronizing smirk. "Regular college student. It works."

"I'm hurt," he says, clutching his heart with the hand not holding the water can. "Really, did you come out here just to insult me and call me boringly normal?"

Bonnie laughs. "No, I came out here to guard your ass from the undead. Which, by the way, there seem to be none of," she adds with a quick scan of the parking lot. "There weren't any last night, but you never know…there's a lot of stuff you might not see in the dark."

Matt nods. "Good thinking. I didn't even think to ask anyone to come with me. Thanks."

"No problem," she shrugs it off. "I've got your back."

He smiles at her. "Then I guess, in return, I have to have yours."

She smiles back. "I guess so." They start to head inside. "By the way," she says over her shoulder, looking at him with a half-smile, "you're not boringly normal."

* * *

The ride is mostly quiet, for several reasons. Everyone is occupied.

Elena is trying to get Anna to calm down or melt or whatever term is most appropriate, but Anna is emotionally frozen and trying to keep herself that way. The only indication she gives of emotion is her occasional glances directed toward Jeremy, who is holding his baseball bat—freshly cleaned—and keeping his gaze trained firmly on the window. And Elena is not succeeding. Nor, Jeremy notes, is Anna looking halfway as comforted as she did last night in his arms.

Matt and Bonnie are discussing some sort of childhood idol that they both loved. They're both being rather quiet about it, but their voices are excited in a whispery, frantic way as they realize all of the things they have in common with each other, from abandonment-prone families to a love for swimming.

Stefan is on top of the car, believe it or not, with a gun in his hands. He's doing it partly to keep everyone safe from zombies that might get too close to the car (Damon has his damn window rolled down again) and partly so that he won't have to concentrate on conversation when his thoughts keep drifting back to sacrifices and what the kiss might have meant.

Caroline is staring alternatively at some magazine she picked up and at the view as the scenery rushes past. The magazine, dated from two years ago, asks stupid questions, like 'Are You a Cool Mom?' and 'How to Lose 20 Pounds in 2 Weeks.' _I know how to do that: just keep running from zombies, and you'll get enough cardio to lose all your extra pounds_, she thinks snidely. All of these magazines are out of date—hell, all magazines ever in existence are out of date now. And nobody has time to read them, they're all trying to hard to survive. It feels too _normal_ to be sitting in a car, reading, when people that aren't really people anymore are wandering around in search of brains and blood and meat. It feels too _regular_ to be listening to Ed Sheeran and Levi Kreis on the radio, when they might be the only humans left. But she does it anyway, but what else is there to do?

Damon is driving, focused completely and totally on the road, believe it or not. He is most definitely not looking at Caroline. He is most definitely not staring at her long hair that needs to be brushed, or her eyes that are free of makeup and dark with sorrow and anger, or her long arms exposed by her t-shirt, or her graceful fingers turning the pages of the magazine balanced in her lap. God, why did she have to sit in the passenger seat.

(Alaric and Jenna are making out in the back, by the way. The only sounds they make are the clacking of their teeth, which, by the way, is _gross_, everybody thinks. Everybody but them. They're acting out the part of lovestruck teens, all over again. It's kind of funny, actually, but no one's in a laughing mood.)

So everything is quiet.

* * *

Everything is quiet, and everything still burns.

Images haunt her nightmares—or maybe they're just hallucinations in the garish light of day, but who cares because she doesn't know if it's daylight because there are no windows and there is no light and _there is only pain_—and sometimes memories, too. Memories of her family and them abandoning her. Memories of Anna, depending on her. Memories of Stefan, the first guy she's ever really wanted (the first one that's ever been a challenge, and she always goes racing after challenges). Memories of zombies, breathing in her face and giving her that disturbing, bloody grin. Wrestling her, biting her, terrifying her.

She is so excruciatingly human at this point, vulnerable and open and probably crying, too. She can't tell. Everything is so hazy. She's dazed and feverish and some part of her knows it, but the rest of her is too tired and too pained to move and do something about it. She's probably dehydrated as well.

But…but there are zombies outside. Zombies she has to kill if she wants them to find her and—this word feels so wrong in her mind, even now—_rescue_ (ugh) her. Zombies she has to kill if she wants to see Stefan and Anna again. Zombies she has to kill if she wants to get medical treatment and live.

Katherine forces herself to stand and stagger to the place where she left her multiple guns. Screw it, she probably has enough bullets. She wanders to the nearest office with a window and pushes it open with her small amount of strength. There are enough zombies around, and more will come as they catch the scent of her blood. (She doesn't check to see if the bleeding's stopped. She's scared to look.) And then she starts to shoot. She has to get rid of them. She has to make enough room for Stefan and Anna and everyone else (she can hardly even remember their names, maybe that's the fever) to come in here and save her.

Everything burns, and soon she runs out of bullets, and that's when she realizes that she's shooting at empty air and there are no more zombies outside in her line of view, and none that she can hear either. And that's when she drops to the floor and picks up another gun, one that still has bullets. She clutches it to her chest, and the cold metal on her skin makes her want to cry in relief.

But everything still burns, and she could swear she's blistering.

* * *

It is midafternoon when they get there, and there are zombies lying everywhere on the ground. Dead, expired, disgusting. Elena prods one's forehead with the toe of her unbroken foot. "It's really dead," she announces.

"I don't think they'd be smart enough to lay a trap and pretend to be dead," Anna mutters, the first words she's said in a while. "Let's go find her."

Elena is almost hurt by her words, but Jeremy touches her arm gently to get her attention. "She's scared," he says simply as Anna walks away. No one hears him but Elena as he pulls her aside to explain Anna's actions. "She's lashing out because her sister might be dead. Don't take it personally."

Elena smiles at her little brother, accepting his words for truth because Jeremy and Anna seem to have some sort of understanding between them. "Okay," she replies, and they enter the office building. Alaric dashes off to his office to retrieve some things he couldn't carry with him last time—something about jewelry and a few good books, things that aren't really useful but will raise morale—and Jenna follows behind him. Stefan and Anna frantically search the various rooms of the first floor, until finally they find her.

She is slumped up against the wall with a window in an office at the end of the last hall. Her curls are pulled back into a low ponytail and her forehead is covered in sweat. There is blood on her cheek. Her clothes are slightly ripped from where the zombies must have attacked her. Her eyes are closed and her breathing is heavy and rapid. It isn't good.

Anna reaches her first, kneeling down and cupping her face in her hands and whispering, _I'm here now shh it's okay it's me it's Anna you're gonna be all right now Kat shh I'm here_. Stefan isn't far behind. "She's burning up," Anna says, voice filled with fear.

Meanwhile, Caroline is methodically searching the desk of the office. "Got some Tylenol," she holds up the tiny bottle triumphantly. "It won't do much, but it'll help. And it should mix okay with the sleeping pills that I've got—" she makes brief eye contact with Elena, then returns her gaze to Anna and Stefan, who are paying eager attention to her words. "—which will also really help. Got any idea why she's got a fever? Search for infections, blood, cuts, anything."

"Think I found it," Anna says a few seconds later, voice shaky. She points to Katherine's left hand, which is wrapped up in bandages. And missing two fingers: her ring finger and her little finger. "Oh my God. Why would she do that?"

"Because she got bitten," Stefan says, finding his voice a moment later. His tone is emotionless but he barely manages to croak the words out. His entire body aches and he doesn't know what's happening.

Damon surveys the guns lying around her. "Looks like she found some more guns before she went out there. And she used them. Good girl."

She moans and twists a little in Stefan's arms as he pulls her off the wall and into his arms for better support. Her eyes flicker open and suddenly she's up, her heavy breathing turned into panting and her eyes wild with fever. She reaches for the gun that's still got a bullet or two in it, and points it at Elena, who stands still in shock, horrified. "Walker," Katherine whispers, throat dry and voice cracking, and a bullet is released from the gun.

Elena screams.

* * *

"I can't believe she shot me in the _other_ foot," Elena complains. She's being carried in Matt's arms again as they walk back to the car. "And then she passed out. God."

"She was hallucinating from the fever," Anna says sharply. "It's not her fault." She turns to Stefan, who is carrying an unconscious Katherine. "She'll be okay, won't she?"

"You'll have to ask Alaric or Caroline," he says with a slight smile as Katherine's head lolls and she turns her head. "They're our medical experts. She's still got a high fever, but at least she's not still shooting people."

Caroline turns away from her small talk conversation with Damon. "She should be fine," she says. "I'm not guaranteeing anything, but her fever isn't blood poisoning, just a small infection that we should be able to deal with. We just need to stop at a CVS or something and hope it hasn't been robbed. If she'd lost more than those two fingers, though…the potential blood loss scares me."

"That was uplifting," Stefan says. "Where are we riding to now?"

They reach the car and begin to unload. Jenna and Alaric take the back with Katherine so that he can watch her and administer the Tylenol and sleeping meds appropriately. Caroline takes shotgun again, with Damon still driving. Matt, Bonnie, Anna, Jeremy, and Elena sit near each other for conversation, with Elena sitting closer to Alaric so that he can pull bullet fragments from her other foot.

"This is becoming a habit," Alaric says to Elena. "You might want to get it under control."

"Shut up," Elena mutters. "Just get this stuff out of me." Stefan pats her arm almost sympathetically, his gaze still on Katherine, and returns to his halfhearted conversation with Anna.

"A CVS first," Caroline says, to answer Stefan's question. "For food and medical supplies. Then we need somewhere that we can stay at for a while to take care of Katherine and Elena. We need to lower Katherine's fever and wait for Elena to get some mobile ability back." She hides a snicker fairly well. "After that…well, who knows." She smiles at the man seated beside her. His eyes are trained on the road, though one side of his mouth curves slightly upward as though he knows that she's watching him. "You never really know what's going to happen, and our future is wilder than we ever predicted."

He lets her pick the first song to play, and she takes the opportunity to relax. No one's dead, hopefully no one is dying, and she wants to sleep. So she does.

Meanwhile, as she sleeps feverishly, Katherine dreams of Stefan's touch. And it burns, soaking in to her skin and moving into her bloodstream. But it's a good singe. It makes her want to be charred, and it makes her temporarily forget the scorching of her fever, and the phantom pains of the fingers that are no longer there.

* * *

A/N: Okay, so, I didn't concentrate on Stefan as much as I wanted to, and believe me I wanted to. And there was almost no Daroline interaction! Gahhh why, you may ask? I'll tell you why. Because my muse is evil. Really. And also because my chapters are only so long...sigh. But I can promise a dramatic Daroline scene next chapter, no matter what else happens. Okay? So please don't hate me. I know that this is a Daroline fic, but I like to explore all of my characters, so please forgive me.

Anyway, so yes, for now it seems that Katherine is going to live. She isn't magically healed, and I'm not sure of anything yet so you shouldn't be either. Mwahaha. (That was my evil laugh because I love leaving you guys uncertain. Just kidding, I hate it. I hate not knowing what's going to happen.) To be quite honest, I'm not really happy with where my outline led up to, so I'm probably going to start again with a clean slate soon and just hope the chapters lead me to where I want to go. Which is good, as I've never excelled at outlines anyway. I don't like them.

If you've read this whole author's note, I both congratulate and pity you. Thank you for reading my ramblings, and don't forget to pretty please review! :)


	9. one touch is never enough

**A/N:** You guys, I am _so sorry_ that I took this long! Seriously, next time, someone poke me with a stick! PM me! Yell at me! Throw things at me! I have a lot going on, but I still shouldn't keep you guys hanging. Unfortunately, that might happen quite a bit for a while. I'm super swamped with my schedule now, but it should lighten up by May at the latest. Then I should be free no matter what for a _long time_. Just stick through it with me for a couple of months, and then we ought to be okay. I mean, the story should be finished by then, anyway. I was planning on a lot of chapters for this sucker, but now I think I'm gonna clean it up nice soon, in a few chapters. Fifteen at the most, probably. Anyway, thank you all for hanging on and waiting for me! I'm so grateful, you guys. Really.

**A/N 2:** Right, so, I literally had to lock myself up in a closet to finish this baby. I'm actually rather happy with how it turned out, so I hope you all like it! :)

A note to _dcforever_: I'm sorry that you aren't satisfied with this story, but I didn't lie. There's a lot of Daroline in this chapter. Have a nice day and please consider other people's feelings the next time you try to call them names. Thank you.

* * *

_one touch is never enough_

—LCD Soundsystem, "One Touch"

* * *

The next CVS that they find is an hour away. Stefan volunteers to stay behind and watch Katherine and Elena. The rest of them go inside to find medication, bandages, etc. They decide to split up. Jenna and Alaric, who seem glued to each other's sides even more than before, go off together before it's even decided. Bonnie and Matt go to the back to find the prescription packets in the storage. Jeremy and Anna walk to the counter to find the over-the-counter meds.

Meanwhile, Damon and Caroline take over zombie-killing duty. He grins and pulls out his gun and she takes hers out as well. "You ready?" he asks her, teasing.

"Born ready," she smirks.

There are only a dozen or so zombies visible from the front of the store—and they can trust the others to take down any they come across in their separate travels—so it doesn't take long. She runs out of bullets, though, and ends up using the sharp edge of a counter on the last one. She slams the blonde clerk's head against the counter edge and stands up, wiping some of the brains out of her hair in disgust. "I think that's the last one," she says, surveying around. Her eye catches her own figure in a small mirror resting on a shelf. "Ew, gross. I am _covered_ in zombie brains."

He suppresses a laugh, but she seems to catch it anyway and gives him a teasingly warning glare. "Don't look at me," he defends, hands raised in surrender, "_I _didn't decide to brain the zombie. That was your choice. I could've taken her down with my knife, you know. All you had to do was ask."

"She was closer to me, and I left my knife in the car for Stefan just in case," Caroline says, teeth gritted as she pulls her brains-soaked hair into a quick ponytail. "That's so nauseating. I can't believe I have brains in my hair. I have to get rid of these jeans. And this shirt. I really like this shirt, too." She looks down. "Oh, great. I got brains on your jacket, too. I'm sorry."

She's still wearing his jacket, and he hardly even noticed. His eyes weren't exactly on her arms, thank you very much. "It's okay," he answers by reflex, though his father gave him that jacket. He's not really mad, though—it would have happened eventually. "We'll wash it."

She points to the zipper that's zipped halfway up her torso, which is slimy with blood and brain. She can't even tug it off, it's so slippery.

"We'll wash it twice," he shrugs after a moment of hesitation. It makes her laugh, which makes him smile. "Let's go find some drugs."

That's when they hear the scream.

* * *

The silence is awkward, but Anna relaxes a little when they find a few painkillers and antibiotics with the over-the-counter meds section. Still, the worry line between her brow remains, and he tries to give her some small comfort. "She's gonna be okay," he says, gently laying a hand on her arm.

She smiles a little, gently and shyly, and doesn't respond. She just rolls the bottle of painkillers in her palm, curling her fingers around it and shoving her hair behind her ear with one hand. There's a new lightness in her eyes, however.

Jeremy's eyes widen suddenly and she spins around—knowing the look in his eyes can only mean one thing—to find a zombie facing her. The red hair of the zombie tumbles down in curls (that were probably once glossy) to its shoulders. Its nametag still holds the remnants of _Amy_ on it and it makes an odd moaning noise before beginning to shuffle over to her. Horrified, Anna remains frozen until Jeremy pushes her away and swings his baseball bat at the zombie. Undeterred but with a small section of its skull exposed by Jeremy's spot-on hit, the zombie tackles him and he drops the bat in order to wrestle with it.

Anna screams, tugging at the zombie's hair and looking frantically around for a weapon while trying to avoid its teeth getting caught on her fingers. She remembers, reaction time delayed, that she left her gun in the car because she's an idiot. She's an idiot and Jeremy is going to die because of her. _I destroy everything I touch and he's going to die because of me and I can't help him and I—_

There's the burst of a shotgun, and the zombie's red tresses, matted and dirty, are now stained with matching scarlet blood.

Bonnie lowers the handgun Matt gave her earlier today. "I'm so glad I gave up my butcher knife," she says. "And also, you guys are incredibly lucky that that pharmacy counter is incredibly close to the storage, otherwise we might not have been fast enough." She and Matt share a satisfied glance as Anna helps Jeremy toss off the now-permanently-dead zombie and stand up. He bends over to pick up his dropped baseball bat—now stained with blood _again_—and catches Anna's eye as he straightens.

She covers her mouth with her fingers, still slightly shocked. "You could have died for me," she mumbles past them, noticing how his eyes are still so brown and warm when just a second ago they could have turned empty and black and dead and _wrong_ and inhuman. "You could have _died _for me," she repeats, unable to say anything else.

"I _would_ have died for you," he corrects, his tone almost light, his smile present and his eyes shining in that I'm-adorable-and-I'd-do-anything-for-you way that only Jeremy Gilbert possesses in her experience. He's a mess. He's lost and broken and torn and so is she. What good would it do…what use would it be….they would only get hurt, and she's been hurt too much lately…

Somehow, these reasons all piling up in her mind don't stop her gaze from landing on his lips and refusing to leave. "You're so stupid," she finally says. "So _stupid_, Jeremy, to think that that's _okay_, like that makes you some kind of a _hero_. Well, you know what? It doesn't! It makes you stupid! It makes you a liability and you could have died and you should have just let me—"

"Let you what?" he cuts her off, stepping a little closer to her and taking her by the wrist lightly. "I should have just let you what?"

She can't respond the way she wants to, but finally she forces herself to whisper, "Deal with it myself," because for all of her pretended strength and for all that she wants to hold it together, and for all that her sister might be dying, and for all that this is a zombie apocalypse, she still can't say the goddamned word _die_.

He must see it in her eyes, though—Katherine always said you could read everything about her in her eyes—because his other hand moves to take her by the cheek. "I couldn't let you do that," he murmurs, just as Caroline and Damon arrive, panting slightly from their journey from the other side of the store. "You had nothing to defend yourself with."

"I don't need anything," she says stubbornly, trying to produce some more of the false strength she's seen Katherine use time and time again. Apparently she's not as good as her sister and pretending to be strong, because none is coming and she is dangerously vulnerable around Jeremy _again_. "I can take care of myself."

"Maybe you can," Jeremy says quietly, "but it's okay to need help sometimes, too. It's okay to want help."

"Jeremy?" she breathes, suddenly aware of how weak she feels. She hasn't eaten in hours and she just nearly died. She nearly watched another human being die. Her sister might die any second if they don't get her some antibiotics. But for some reason, and God this makes her selfish, one of the things she wants almost more than anything is to be kissed by this boy. She's never been one of "those" girls, who needed a man in their life, who needed to be kissed and cuddled and treated with kid gloves. She's never been one of those people, period. But now… "I think I need a little help," she continues, and his grip on her cheek tightens for a second.

His clasp loosens just the tiniest bit, feather-light on her skin now, and he bestows a gentle look and a knowing smile on her before he leans forward. Her eyes close in expectation and there are his lips, warm and soft on her own, still feather-light just like his touch. He doesn't force tongue or wrap his arms around her or make it anything more than it is, but he does provide a little warmth and a little distraction. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows that there is death and destruction and chaos going on right now, and that Katherine is feverishly twisting in the car while Stefan watches her worriedly, and that she has nothing left to her name but a duffel bag and the clothes on her back, but she can ignore all of that for now. Maybe that makes her a selfish person, but for once maybe she just doesn't care. She brushes her lips back against his, absorbing the moment into her memory and making it something she won't ever forget, just like she'll never forget Katherine's goodbye to her or the first time she killed one of the undead.

As if understanding her intent, Jeremy smiles into the kiss and mouths her name against her lips, his fingers tightening a bit on her wrist as he memorizes her very heartbeat, knowing just exactly how precious a thing like that is now.

* * *

Bonnie tucks the gun away into her pocket, aware that she should not be watching this moment with such sadness in her. Or perhaps she should be. Conflict runs around her in mind. Jeremy has been her guiding light in the storm. He's made her smile, held her hand, saved her life, protected her, cared for her. He became so much more to her than just "Elena's snot-nosed baby brother" in only the span of several days. He made her feel safe. He made her feel _wanted_.

But obviously he wants someone else. It doesn't matter that she saved his life, not Anna. It doesn't matter that she grew up with him, not Anna. And it most definitely doesn't matter that she would have protected him, cared for him, saved his life (again), held his hand, and made him smile just as he's done for her.

She's so focused on _not_ looking at Jeremy and Anna kissing over a corpse (while secretly stealing glances every couple of seconds) that she almost doesn't notice the sudden warm attaching itself to her hand. She looks down, finding a large, callused, heated hand entwining its fingers through hers. Looking up, she sees Matt smiling down at her as he laces their fingers together.

"I'm sorry," he whispers to her.

Bonnie smiles with grace, as she always does, and lifts her head up high. "He's just a boy," she murmurs, though mostly to herself. "And I'm just a silly little girl wanting to fall in love in the apocalypse. And it was just a stupid little crush."

He squeezes her hand. "You're not just a silly little girl, Bonnie." Warmth and respect shine in his innocent but knowing blue eyes, and she suspects that he really means it. "You're an intelligent, brave woman," he says, sounding like a well-said but spontaneous speech, "and a lifesaver. You're great. You're kind. You're forgiving and sarcastic and sweet and so, _so _giving. And you're my friend. And Anna's great and all, but," he lowers his voice just for her benefit, and she leans it, a slow smile spreading across her face, "Jeremy's an idiot."

She squeezes back. "Thank you," she whispers into his eyes.

* * *

Damon and Caroline, after experiencing _that _particular awkward situation, walk on to find Alaric and Jenna in the toiletries aisle. Alaric is animatedly discussing the last college frat party he stumbled across as he left the office last month at about midnight, and Jenna is laughing as she goes through the various shampoo brands to find a few for all the girls and a few for all the guys.

"Well, wasn't _that_ comfortable," Damon drawls as they sidle up beside Jenna and Alaric.

"What?" Alaric asks, curious. He and Damon seem to have formed a sort of quick bond, though it's mostly full of deprecating comments and arguments over which alcohol is better (though they both agree on bourbon, and Caroline knows that Damon wouldn't even be legal yet if the government were still in place but she has firmly decided not to judge him because it's not like _she's_ never drank before).

Damon narrows his eyes and shakes his head vigorously as Jenna tries to put a brand of shampoo in a bag she found in another aisle. "If you get one that isn't dandruff-preventing, Stefan will whine for weeks. Please, I am begging you," he says in all seriousness, though Caroline instinctively knows that he is teasing. He continues, turning to Ric, "Well, Baby Gilbert and Anna—damn it, I still can't think of a nickname for her—started making out. Over a corpse. In front of everybody except you two."

"Was that what that screaming was about?" Jenna asks curiously. "We only heard one shot, so we figured everything was okay."

"Yeah, it's fine," Damon answers, probing through the stocks of hair products. He selects a green bottle randomly and reaches over for a bottle of Listerine. "Anna almost died, and then Baby Gilbert nearly did, but Bon-Bon fixed everything and now it's all magical rainbows and true love. I think I might need a drink." His bored tone borders on insufferably sarcastic, so Caroline steps in.

"I don't see anything wrong with them enjoying in a little mutual crush," she says. "I mean, it's the end of the world and yadda yadda yadda, all that depressing shit. Why not let them have a little fun? I think we all deserve a little making out."

His eyebrows raise and he winks at her. "Well, if that's what you're suggesting, I'd be happy to extend my services a little farther to—" he leans in closer to her, and she doesn't back away, though he doesn't know what that means considering he gets cut off before he finishes his offer.

"Can you two flirt later?" Alaric asks, noticeably uncomfortable. And, just like that, the moment is ruined and Damon moves away from her once again.

"Can you two sleep a little quieter tonight?" Caroline shoots back. "God, you're just like Damon, you sound like sex-starved monkeys."

Damon's eyes widen marginally. _Damn it._

"What are you talking about?" Jenna asks, mildly interested, and Caroline proceeds into telling the story of the sex dream in the janitor's closet. Before he knows it, the story is over and done with and Alaric is holding his sides.

"Well," Damon says dryly, to save what little is left of his dignity, "thanks to Alaric's loud signaling of our presence, we can now be assured that there are no more zombies in the area."

Alaric ignores him. "Oh my God. I can't…" he turns to Jenna, almost breathless. "That was beautiful, wasn't it?" He doesn't wait or her reply before swiveling around. He looks at Caroline, a broad beam spread over his face. "Thank you. Really, _thank you_. That made my day."

Grabbing a small bottle of red nail polish, Caroline smirks in Damon's mortified direction and stuffs the bottle in Jenna's bag. "It made my day, too. Let's go before Stefan has a heart attack."

"How much dirt do you have on him?" Jenna inquires as they leave the aisle.

"Not much yet," Caroline replies, "but I'm getting there."

Damon groans.

* * *

He's very close to freaking out when they return to the car. It's been more than half an hour and he's heard a scream and a shot. Not to mention, Katherine's fever seems to be on the rise. And definitely not to mention, Elena keeps making annoyed noises since she can't move her legs without her world turning white-hot with pain.

Yes, he is definitely really close to a mental break when they get back.

Katherine twists feverishly as they all clamber into the car. He's curious about Anna and Jeremy holding hands, but he holds himself back. It's really none of his business. "Who's gonna get on top of the car?" he asks. _I'm not leaving Katherine_, his pose seems to say. He's seated next to Katherine, who is lying down in the back. Her head rests in his lap as she mumbles something under her breath about burning, and he rests his hand in her hair on top of her head. "We need two people up there, the car won't hold us all—especially not with Katherine lying down like this."

"We'll go up there," Alaric interjects, pointing to himself and the glued-on substance at his side that calls herself Jenna.

"No, you won't," Damon retorts. "You won't be on watch; you'll just make out up there. We need focus. Caroline, grab a gun, we'll go. Matt, drive." He tosses the keys to the blond sophomore, who just barely catches them in surprise.

"Shotgun!" Bonnie crows, her smile dimmed but still present, and they all climb into their spots.

* * *

Later, as night falls and they reach a less populated region of Florida, Matt pulls off to a gas station and tells them they need more gasoline. He pulls out his shotgun and asks them to go and he'll protect the car. He, Damon, Stefan, and Caroline are the only ones still awake—but Stefan isn't leaving Katherine and Matt needs to protect the car, so Damon and Caroline climb off the top of the car with shotguns in hand.

He's siphoning gas through a bucket and a hose, just like Matt did earlier, from a _beautiful_ Impala he's slobbering over. "It's so perfect," he whispers after he's finished, and Caroline snorts derisively at his big puppy eyes.

"You are way too into cars, Damon," she says as they walk into the store to find as many supplies as they can.

"I was gonna be a mechanic," he tells her. "I think I have the right to freak over cars a little."

"You were gonna be a mechanic?" she looks him over. "I dunno. You don't look like a mechanic to me."

"What do mechanics look like?" he mocks her.

She studies him further. "Greasy," she finally decides. "Bushy-haired. Tall, broad, loud, _not_ skinny. Pretty much everything you're not."

"Hey!" he defends himself playfully. "I'm broad! I'm tall! And I'm loud!"

"I'll agree to the 'loud' part," she teases, elbowing him.

"_Hey_!" he repeats, sounding almost offended, and pushes her arm to get her back. Startled by the playful amount of force put into the push, she goes down, dragging him down after clawing into his arm with her fingers. They both land painfully on the tile, her onto her side and him with his weight balanced on his fingertips as he braces himself. Part of him digs into nonetheless as she rolls slightly onto her back and fingers her side, breathing deeply at the force of their landings. "Sorry," he whispers, suddenly aware of how close he is to her.

She inhales, her eyes locking onto his. "S'okay," she murmurs back, and, _God_, the crappy lighting of the gas station convenience store makes her look beautiful. He doesn't mind the dried blood on her clothes or her unwashed hair or her utter lack of makeup or the shitty lighting because she is _gorgeous_ with that fiery glint in her eyes, her bitten lower lip, her bruise on the underside of her jaw, her slightly swollen eye. Every bit of her is beautiful, and God, he wants to _touch_—

Caroline looks up at him, her eyes like liquid midafternoon sky, and one of her hands reaches up, nails lightly brushing his cheek. Her nails are short and choppy, flecked with lingering pieces of polish, and jagged from her biting them out of (new) habit. The sensation is like something out of a trance, a fantasy, and he closes his eyes for a second. This Caroline is not the Caroline of his dream the other night, the girl who was perfect and everything out of his wildest dreams; this Caroline, the real one, is _better_. She's different, she's broken, she's faulty, she's tougher, and she's wonderful because of it.

Her eyes are focused on his lips now as she breathes out, "_Damon_—" and her thumb finds his lower lip. He takes in a shuddering breath, about to lean down and finally kiss her, when—

"_BEEP!_" they hear from the car outside.

She exhales shakily, her hand coming back down as she braces herself up on his elbows. He leans up, accommodating her and utterly all-too-aware of the fact that he's straddling her now. "Matt m-must be tired of waiting," she says, her voice breaking slightly. "Let's, um, let's get the stuff."

Damon rolls off of her until her legs are free and watches as she stands up unsteadily and walks away. He looks up and groans at the stack of condoms taunting him from the shelf above him. Sighing, he reluctantly stands and follows her fast-paced getaway stride.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they come out with more medicine—thank God for convenience store drugs—and on-the-go food. Caroline is cradling a stack of water bottles in her arm like she's holding a baby, and Damon's stuffed everything else that he can't hold in his hands into his pockets. Matt breathes a sigh of relief. "I was wondering if you two were even still alive," he tells them when they come near enough to the window. "Were there any zombies?"

"Deserted," Caroline shakes her head, speaking lowly to not wake anyone else up. "Anything happen out here?"

"Nope." Matt bites his lip. "It's unnatural. There should be at least one around."

Damon surveys the woods around them. "Maybe they're all off in the woods? I bet that's it. Who knows. The employees-only section was locked, maybe they're in there. Maybe they knew what was happening and wanted to keep from infecting anybody else."

Looking up sharply at him, Caroline locks gazes with him for just a second, then tears her eyes away and looks back at the store. "Maybe we should go back and put them out of their misery?" she asks, voice hesitant. "They deserve that much, don't you think?"

Damon looks down at her, with her hair hastily swept up in a ponytail, her eyes dark and curious and somehow still innocent, wanting to help anyone that can still somehow be helped, even if they're not human. He feels the slightest hint of indecision in him, but—"I'll go look," he tells her, not bothering to think twice about it once he's said it. "You get up in the car. I'll be back in a minute."

After a few seconds of quiet protest, she gives up at the stony expression on his face, and lets him go. He's grateful for that as he walks slowly back to the store.

_She shouldn't have to see this,_ he thinks.

* * *

Ten minutes later, he returns. "It took a while to break the lock," he tells her as he climbs up onto the top of the car. Matt starts up the car and they continue crawling along the road. They have to be extra careful to keep the lights on the lowest setting, not crash into any trees or other cars, and not somehow end up in the middle of a horde of roadside zombies.

"Were they in there?" she asks him quietly.

"Yeah," he said heavily. "Yeah, they were in there. Four of them. Manager and two employees and one shopper. Just a kid, really. Musta been there with his mom or somethin', I don't know. But they're…gone. They're gone now." He rubs one hand down his shotgun, deeply aware of the fact that he's sweating for more than one reason. "You don't have to worry about them anymore."

Her eyes are steely on him. "I could have done it myself." She crossed her legs, sitting Indian style, and starts disassembling her handgun. "I could have taken care of them."

"I know," he tells her honestly. "You could've. But I can, too, and I might as well do it."

"You don't have to take care of me," she says, sounding almost angry. It's a defense mechanism, he knows without asking, and he doesn't comment on it. "I'm not a little girl, okay. Just because we had a—a moment there, or whatever, doesn't mean you have to take care of me."

"I know," he repeats. He knows she's strong, he can see that by himself. But the fact remains that he's overcome by this impractical feeling to make this whole damn situation somewhat _easier_ on her. "I don't have to."

_I want to._ But the words go unsaid, and she just settles down into the car, chin pressed into her knees as she curls her arms around her legs and tries to go to sleep in the cold and the wind.

* * *

Matt pulls over to a small house that Damon directs him to through radio communication. (These radios are the best fucking things _ever_, in his opinion.) There's a small light on in the kitchen, but the house is empty except for a couple of zombies that Matt and Damon quickly dispatch with a couple of guns as Caroline watches from the car, only halfway awake but awake enough to hold a gun and listen and look for more zombies. When they return, she's gently nudging Bonnie awake with one hand and poking at Elena's shoulder with the other. Both girls wake, grumbling a little but generally all right thanks to a few hours of sleep and the promise of a bed in a minute, and they set to waking up everybody else.

Stefan wakes up quickly and begins gathering Katherine's feverish body in his arms—insanely, unendingly, unashamedly grateful for the fact that her temperature seems to be down. Damon thinks he hears Stefan praising the god of painkillers, but doesn't push his half-crazed little brother. God knows what's running through his indecipherable little head at the moment.

After a moment, they're all out of the car, with Alaric balancing Elena on his back like a five-year-old being carried to bed by her father. Jenna follows behind sleepily, with Jeremy and Anna practically sleeping on top of each other as they trail into the house. After everyone's in the house, they set to giving better medical attention to Katherine and Elena. Since only Alaric and Caroline have medical experience, everyone else goes off to catch some sleep except for Damon, Stefan, and Anna. Anna hovers over her sister, worry pinching her eyebrows together, as Alaric sponges Katherine down and bandages her wounds again (better, this time) and gives her more meds, stronger ones this time.

"Is what you're giving her going to work?" Anna asks nervously.

"Vicodin'll knock her out," Alaric tells her. "Just be glad we found some. Limited supply, so we'll have to make it last—but at least we've got some. Go get some sleep, Anna, you look beat. You've been looking at her all day. If anything happens, I'll tell you."

After a small moment of protest, Anna gives in and heads off to one of the bedrooms—probably the one with Jeremy in it, Caroline guesses as she checks on Elena's injuries.

"I seriously don't even understand how this happened," she mutters as she unwraps one of the bandages. "But the bleeding's stopped in this one, which is good. At least you haven't been walking on them, which is really the best we can do for now."

Elena is, thank goodness, asleep, and she does not reply.

"How is she not waking up?" Damon asks her.

"I was Elena's best friend for ages," Caroline laughs. "It would take an African stampede for her to wake up unless she was ready for it. Even then, she'd be half-asleep while she was running away."

Damon unimpressively attempts (fails) to hold back a snort. "Nice."

She shrugs. "That's Elena for you. She better just be glad that I know how to do this." She tapes up the foot again and checks the other one. She clicks her tongue. "Dammit, this one's still bleeding a little. She's probably gonna need something for this."

"Why _did_ you learn how to do this?" he asks her curiously as she leans over the first aid kit to find more Ace bandages.

Caroline looks over her shoulder at him and looks down at Elena's foot, eagerly glancing away to avoid further eye contact. "Tyler broke his leg last year during football, and his parents were out of town and I didn't know how to take care of him, so I—I took a class, so the next time I would have a basic _idea_ of what to do. Then I took more classes. CPR and the Heimlich and broken bones and splinting and a bunch of stuff, just little two-week classes that hardly took up any time." She laughs a little, sadly. "At least they seem to be helping now, huh?"

Before he can respond, Elena stirs and sits up a little, appearing dazed and bleary-eyed. "Wha's goin' on?" she asks muzzily. She scans the room, eyes landing on Stefan hunching over Katherine's prone form as he runs fingers through her curls. Her eyes widen marginally, suddenly filled with a deep sorrow. "Oh. _Oh._" She lays back down, her eyes squeezed together tightly. "Gonna give him up," she mumbles, half to Caroline but half to herself, and Caroline can feel her slight fever and knows it's affecting her. "Gonna have to. I can see how much he wants her."

After a moment, when Elena's breathing has relaxed back into a sleep but the lines between her eyes still spell out sadness, Caroline glances up at Damon and sighs. "Well, that was upliftingly happy, wasn't it?" she asks sarcastically.

Damon grins at her with little happiness behind it, and suddenly they both just feel extremely exhausted. "I think Elena's bandaged up sufficiently," he tells her. "Let's go get some sleep." He holds out a hand to her, which she takes with a small smile, feeling the awkwardness of their earlier situation dissipate in the calm air of the cabin. They leave Alaric, well-rested from his sleep, on first watch, and wander the halls, searching for some empty bedrooms to rest in.

And, well, of _course_ there's only one bed left.

* * *

**A/N:** So, there you go! What did you guys like? Dislike? Want to see more of? Drop a line and let me know, if you're so inclined. :)


	10. hold me in your standstill ground

A/N: Hi! So, the 150th reviewer happened to be _**VampCaroline**_, so, darling, PM or review and tell me your request, and I'll try to incorporate it! Thanks for reviewing, dear, so I'm willing to try anything you have in mind as long as it isn't totally plot-changing. I mean, I could put in a specific line, a detail, a conversation between two particular characters…anything. I love all of you, and thank you so much for putting up with my long hiatus!

Also, hint: A few of our favorite characters are gonna show up next chapter. *wink wink nudge nudge* Try to guess, guys!

Disclaimer: Wow, I haven't done one of these in a while (yay). Um. I don't own? (Not yay.)

* * *

_hold me in your standstill ground – _Rachael Yamagata, "Over and Over"

* * *

After about a million years of awkward silence pass, Caroline takes in a deep breath, crosses the room, and throws herself onto the one queen-sized bed. "I'm not taking the floor," she announces, her voice muffled into the pillow, and she hears Damon snicker quietly to himself as he sits down next to her prone form.

"Neither am I," he mumbles, and she feels the vibrations echo through the bed as he lies down. "God, I'm tired."

"Me, too," she replies, except her voice doesn't actually sound like she's speaking English since the pillows are swallowing up all her words, and she hears that stupid, smug, sweet snicker of his, and God she hates him for being so damn attractive when all she wants to do is sleep and tease him about his sex dreams. Her fingers clench the sheets around her and she tries very, very hard to fall asleep.

It really doesn't work, but then again, he _is_ sitting up right next to her. What did she honestly expect?

He breaks the silence a few minutes later when he asks her, quietly, "Do you think things are going to get better?" He doesn't know why he asks her, except it seems like Caroline should know because Caroline knows so much—how to be so badass and so trusting and so kind and so strong all at once, and he doesn't understand how she hasn't been broken all the way yet, except maybe it's okay to be broken halfway because that just makes her more beautiful.

Time passes as she seems to consider his question, and he looks down at the back of her head, curls tossing in the air slightly as she shakes her head in confusion and exhaustion. "No idea," she mumbles into the pillow, and he knows that, despite her "badass stranger" reputation, despite the fact that he hardly knows her…he thinks he understands her. He thinks he understands that she's just as confused and terrified as she is, and that she's just as tired as he feels, and that maybe they all just want to go to sleep for a whole year and wake up to have no zombies milling around.

But he's Damon Salvatore and she's Caroline Forbes and he's rapidly beginning to understand that both of them rarely get what they really want.

And while he's thinking all of this, while he's trying to string coherent thoughts together past his fatigue, he watches as the rise and fall of her shoulders becomes steadier and listens as her breathing paces itself slightly and drinks in the sight of her peaceful, calmer, asleep. She rolls onto her side, facing his waist so closely that he can feel her warm, comforting breath on the strip of skin where his shirt has ridden up. He slips down slightly so that he's not resting against the headboard anymore but instead lying down with his head resting on the pillow next to hers, all-too-aware of the fact that he could just lean forward and their lips would touch. All too aware of her breath on the back of his neck when he rolls onto his side, facing away from her, and all too aware of the fact that he wants to kiss her much more than he wants to sleep.

He forces himself to shut his eyes anyway, too tightly, and tries to think of anything but the girl behind him as he wishes for no more dreams.

He doesn't get his wish. As usual.

* * *

She wakes up breathless, the image of Tyler burned into her retinas _again_.

His spiky dark hair, crunchy to her fingers. His almost black eyes, which could be alternately the coldest or warmest things you ever saw. His hands—long, scarred, rough, callused, and _familiar_, comforting as he touched her. His dark skin, always warm. His lips, dark and sacred and dry on hers, tongue wet and pushy and unyielding. Tyler, laughing. Tyler, smiling at her. Tyler, yelling and then apologizing for it. Tyler, having eye sex with her. Tyler, sneaking out to meet her. Tyler, kissing Elena. Tyler, kissing _her_. Tyler, drunk. Tyler, hung-over and with the tendency to growl at anyone who made a noise. Tyler, beautiful; Tyler, dead but still alive in the sickest way imaginable; Tyler, with blood dripping from his lips; Tyler, with a bullet to his head that she put there. Tyler, Tyler, _Tyler_.

Rolling over, she reaches onto the nightstand for the pill bottle that Elena gave her that second night. She really needs to sleep. She needs to _forget_.

But then she remembers that she gave the pill bottle to Alaric and it's probably in the living room right now. They're probably almost out anyway, having given almost all of them to Elena or Katherine (and maybe Stefan to get him to finally sleep and stop brooding).

So for tonight, she'll just have to deal.

She's not gonna sleep anymore at all tonight, and she already knows it.

She can hear Damon's breathing, soft and oh-so-close from right next to her, troubled and light, almost echoing hers as her breath hitches. She frowns and closes her eyes.

It's funny. Tyler wasn't always that big, strong, tough, invulnerable guy you'd expect from his bad-guy persona. He had his rare moments of open, hesitant vulnerability, as though he expected her to laugh at him for it but he still trusted her with it anyway: the day his mom got in that harmless-but-they-didn't-know-it-yet car accident; the night she threatened to break up with him over Elena; their first night spent together _that_ way, his lips soft and unsure on her newly-touched skin as she told him for the millionth time that _yes_, she was _sure_.

Oddly, those moments of tentative openness just made (_make_, a sneering voice whispers in her head) him seem stronger in her eyes. And it made him trust her more too with those weaknesses.

And now she _definitely_ won't be sleeping tonight, and it's not like she wants to wake Damon up with her fidgeting (and possibly crying, but she won't ever admit to that).

So she walks out and down the hallway and pushes a random door open to some sort of den, like another living room. She studies it, deciding it'll do for her purposes, striking up a fire in the fireplace that conveniently has firewood in it, and curling up in the loveseat closest to its warmth and light in the otherwise cold and dark room.

Damon wanders in from the bedroom sleepily about twenty minutes later, coming into the den and finding her there, bent over her knees on the loveseat, elbows resting gently on her thighs. She's staring blankly at the wall.

(Thinking of Tyler's image, but he doesn't know that. Then again, she's also thinking guiltily of the image that kept interrupting her dreams: a face with dark blue eyes and barely-parted lips, looking down at her, elbows braced above her head, leaning in to maybe kiss her…)

"You okay?" he asks gruffly, and she startles, but she can hear the timid gentleness behind it, and she wonders just what made Damon so damn afraid of being tender, because she knows he's almost definitely capable of it. He just rejects it, like he's allergic to being human in this zombie-filled world. And who knows, maybe it's a defense mechanism. Who knows. She's not one to judge when she's got her own defense system.

"What happened?" he asks, still softly but not too gently, moving in closer to her when she doesn't answer.

She shrugs in response this time, hypersensitive and all-too-aware of the fact that he sits extremely close to her when he reaches the loveseat. His leg bumps her knee and she doesn't have the energy or the fear required to pull away, so she just leaves it there. "Woke up, couldn't go back to sleep. Didn't want to wake you up with my tossing and turning, so I came out here." She flashes him a smile they both know is fake. "Why? Is that why you woke up, 'cause I left? Didja miss me, snuggle bunny?" she mocks.

Damon chokes out a harsh, unexpected laugh, crossing his ankles and leaning forward until his hands just barely feel the warmth of the fire in front of them. "Maybe a bit," he smirks, teasing her right back, and she discards the urge to blush. "Maybe it was the whole sleeping-in-jeans-and-boots things. I sorta forgot to take my shoes off. Damn uncomfortable."

She lets a small smile show. "I'll bet." Luckily for her, she'd thought to toe off her sneakers before collapsing onto the bed. A minute of silence passes, and she begins to think that he's possibly waiting for something. "Did you want something?" The words come out sharper than she intended.

His head jerks up a bit at her voice, as though she's woken him up, and she realizes guiltily that he'd been falling asleep sitting up right next to her. Warm fingers squeeze around her chest area and she pushes away the feeling, knowing that it leads to nothing good to feel this safe and warm and untouchable in this world that she lives in now. It'll just knock her off her game, and nobody needs that. "Um, no," he stumbles, words slightly slurred by sleep, and his eyes are drooping and it really shouldn't be quite this adorable, "just…tired, Ca'line."

Caroline rolls her eyes and _absolutely does not_ inhale too sharply at the feeling of sympathy and empathy and _attraction_ rising up in her chest. "Me, too. Go back to bed."

He half-shrugs with one shoulder. "Rather stay out here with you, Care Bear."

A small smile forms on her face as she forces herself to remind him harshly, "Quit it with that nickname. It sucks and you know it. Asshole." She tacks on the _asshole_ part for good measure, well aware that there's a line that they almost crossed earlier tonight at the gas station (or was it yesterday? She's lost track of the time) and that she shouldn't be touching it any time soon, if ever.

A returning small smile appears on his face as he looks at her like he's drunk and she's a princess and they've known each other for ten years instead of a few weeks. "G'night, Care Bear," he mutters out rudely, and then his eyes close and his breathing slips into a soft, unceasing pattern.

Though she scoffs and tries to prod him awake and eventually declares she's going back to the bed without him, Alaric still finds them four hours later curled around each other, her head on Damon's shoulder and their breathing in sync. Bed abandoned and fire dying, warm skin and fingers curling around each other's.

* * *

Stefan's on watch—Alaric's officially been declared AWOL and is probably asleep with Jenna at the moment—when Katherine stirs. By the time her eyes flutter open, he's bent over and curling his fingers around her unharmed hand. "Stef'n?" she mutters, eyes and throat still thick and unused from sleep and fevers, and he nods, clearing his throat just as she does.

"You're gonna be just fine," he promises, hardly even aware of what he's saying, only knowing that she looks so lost and confused that it hurts him, only that she's looking up at him with slowly-clearing gigantic doe eyes, only that one of her curls is in her face. He brushes it away absentmindedly with his free hand but leaves his fingers tracing outlines on her face. "You're okay, Kat, you're okay."

"Don't…call me Kat," she mumbles, leaning up slightly. He bends down to accommodate her, and she whispers in his ear, "Get me some fucking _drugs_." And then she drops back down onto the pillow, eyes closed but breathing too hitched with discomfort to be asleep so quickly. Besides, her fingers (from her unharmed hand) are tightening around his.

She's in pain. He reaches over for the sleeping pills and drops them into her waiting open mouth before pulling her to lean against his chest with a bottle of water to her lips. She rests easily with his heartbeat thudding into her back, and she's asleep again before he's laid her down.

She's getting better. He can hardly keep the hopeful smile off his face.

(Elena's asleep just a few feet away, and is it bad that he hardly even notices?)

* * *

A couple of weeks pass and things are becoming less intense. There have been only a couple of zombies sighted for about three days (they take shifts on the roof with a gun) and everyone's actually falling into a bit of a domestic routine. Caroline and Damon cook, Matt and Bonnie take shifts, Alaric and Jenna…make out like teenagers and do little chores around the house, Stefan patiently watches over Katherine and Elena, and Jeremy and Anna just kind of stare into each other's eyes and talk.

Thankfully, Jeremy and Anna are getting past their lovebirds, soul-melting-gaze stage, for which Bonnie is super-grateful (or so she whispers to Matt, which makes him smile a little sadly). It's been decided that the person that has the worst of it, so far, is Stefan. Not only does he have to deal with sarcastic, pained Katherine, but also with Elena, who has elected to give Stefan the mostly-silent treatment over their unofficial breakup status.

But Katherine _is_ getting better. Her fever is completely gone, she isn't complaining anymore of phantom pains, and the infection is gone as well. She's no longer trying to use fingers that aren't there when she insists on making coffee or changing clothes. Stefan doesn't have to help her with the little things anymore.

Even though he secretly kind of wants to.

* * *

Jenna pauses by the door, axe in her hand. She smiles, hand braced against the halfway-open door, as Alaric turns to acknowledge her as he bends over the stove, making sure the spaghetti's heating up nicely. "I thought I'd go get more firewood. We're almost out and it's nearly dark, so better get it done now." She gestures to the fading daylight.

Alaric nods. "Okay. See ya in a minute." He leans towards her and they brush their lips together lightly.

There's a gagging sound across the room. "Spare me," Elena objects, hobbling on the crutches they'd managed to find a couple miles off near a clinic that had been thronged with zombies…but it had been worth it, or so Damon had claimed, to make her stop whining about her immobility.

"Just 'cause you're not getting any doesn't mean they shouldn't have to," Caroline grins as she and Damon enter. "Hey, Alaric, how's dinner coming along?"

"Fine," Alaric states, "how do you feel about making some garlic bread? Stefan and Katherine just got back from that CVS a couple minutes ago, and I think they brought bread. Might be a little stale, but it should be good if I can dig out the garlic from the spice cabinet."

"Sounds good," Caroline chirps, and Damon looks down at her fondly. Animatedly discussing what breakfast should be like tomorrow with Alaric, she doesn't notice.

But Jenna does, just before she slips out to get the firewood.

* * *

Bonnie pulls herself up on the roof by climbing the ladder they'd found back in the shed. "Hey," she murmurs, settling herself next to Matt. He jumps, looking surprised. "Thought you might like some company," she offers up.

"Thanks," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck and looking as awkward as possible. "It does get kinda quiet up here. But at least I don't have to sleep up here…Anna and Jer ask to take the nights. Which is good for me."

She nearly winces at the mention of Anna and Jeremy…but she doesn't. Which is different. _A good different_, she thinks. "Yeah, that's good," she says, throwing her legs off the edge of the roof and crossing her ankles. "Wow, this is high. Never been a big fan of heights," she admits at his questioning look. "I can barely stand roller coasters. That was always more Elena and Caroline's thing. I'd stand below, eating cotton candy."

"Blue or pink?" he asks, a wry grin twisting his mouth and making her heart beat a little faster.

Her eyes dart to his sky-blue eyes, a little lighter with his smile reaching them. "Blue," she whispers, and then she realizes just how close they are: thighs touching, shoulders jumping, her hair practically brushing his neck thanks to her morning frizz. Damn it, she's in her _pajamas_. And isn't that attractive.

_Why am I so worried about being attractive around Matt?_ _He's like my best friend…like a male Elena or something._

But he's not. He's more than that. This all-American, blond-haired, blue-eyed, baseball-playing, smile-splits-his-face-wide-open, startled-so-easily-it's-sweet man that she met only a few weeks ago…well, he's more than just a best guy friend. He's…he makes her heart race. He makes her stomach jump to her throat when he laughs. He makes her skin sizzle with electricity when they accidentally touch just a little too long.

His eyes have widened, like he's realizing the same thing as her, and then…then, their lips are brushing and it takes her a moment to realize that they're _kissing_. To understand that this gentle kiss has turned into something a little more passionate, as his hand comes up to tangle in her wild morning bedhead curls and hers comes up to cup his firm, strong jaw. She bites down on his lower lip, more out of instinct than anything, and he lets out a little moan.

God_ damn_, but that is a sexy sound. She lets out a similar one and leans in a little closer until there's almost no space between them.

And that's when they hear the scream.

* * *

Alaric is out the door, arm raised above his head and murderous expression on his face, before he even realizes that all he's armed with is a wooden spoon coated in spaghetti sauce. He searches the yard frantically until he sees her.

Her hair is caked with drying blood, clinging to her neck like sweat-soaked hair only much more horrifying, and her eyes are wild like a child's after a nightmare. Her plaid shirt and jeans are also covered in some arterial sprays of blood. The zombie lying dead at her feet, half-beheaded with the axe still stuck in its neck, would explain all of that.

He hates to do it, but his hands raise up automatically when her eyes lock onto his frame. Her hands drop to her sides just as his rise up, and he feels horribly guilty for treating her like something dangerous…but she_ is_. In this mindset, she is.

Jenna lets out a sick, harsh laugh, and something in her seems to crumple. "Ric…it hurts," she whispers past dry lips, sounding ragged and hoarse when she was smiling ten minutes ago. She staggers to him, and he catches her in his arms, letting her face push its way into the warm skin between his neck and shoulder.

"What hurts?" he asks, patting her down for any wounds. But she doesn't flinch. She's not bleeding anywhere.

"Everything," she murmurs, and Damon and Caroline are suddenly there, silent and unsure of what to say or do, just witnesses to the meltdown.

Matt runs around the side of the house into Alaric's peripheral vision, Bonnie sprinting behind him. "Oh my god, I'm sorry," Matt pants. "I wasn't paying…I got distracted—I…" he hangs his head, still trying to catch his breath. "I'm so sorry, I'm…"

A sudden hardness in his chest makes it difficult for Alaric to breathe. "I don't care," he says, and he doesn't like how severe and cold he feels and sounds. But he's not in the mood to be forgiving. "You let this happen. You were supposed to be watching."

"But I—" Matt tries to say, but gets cut off.

"She could have _died_," Alaric hisses, holding Jenna tighter. She whimpers, but it seems to be more out of emotional pain than anything else. "And you would have let her. If she hadn't been holding that axe…"

_I'd have killed you._ The words are unspoken, but Matt seems to understand them. His eyes widen in shock, almost humorously, and he backs away slowly. He turns, but Jenna speaks, croaking, and it makes him turn back around. "It's okay, Matt," she rasps, pulling herself away from Alaric and brushing her tears away angrily out of frustration with herself. "You didn't mean to. Alaric, don't be hard on him."

"You could have _died_," Alaric repeats, placing weight on the dreaded word. "And it would have been his fault."

Jenna gestures to the distraught Matt a few feet away, Bonnie touching his arm comfortingly. "And you think he doesn't know that? He's learned his lesson. Be gentle with him. Please." She leans forward, placing a hand on Alaric's arm similarly to Bonnie calming Matt down. "Alaric, I'll be fine."

He notices too easily how she says _I'll be_ instead of _I am_. And God, he wants to punch the hell out of this kid he's taught for two years. He wants to kick his ass for having the swollen lips of a recently-kissed person that match Bonnie's. He wants to _hurt_ Matt for scaring him with this. But Jenna's hand on his arm calms him, and he settles down a little. "Go away, Matt," he says tiredly, now more exhausted than angry. And it's only five in the afternoon. "Get back to your shift."

Matt scrambles away like a scolded boy, head still firmly bent so low that it almost touches his chest with guilt, and Bonnie slowly walks after him. Alaric takes Jenna into his arms, and she lets him, relaxing into his hold as he tenses up even more in hers. "I'm sorry I left you alone," he murmurs. "I know you—"

"Know what?" she snaps, and her tone sounds playfully angry but he knows that underneath it's dangerous. "Know that I'm crazy? Know that I'm irreparable? Is that it?"

"I know that you're _hurting_," he emphasizes, and sees Damon and Caroline reentering the house awkwardly out of the corner of his eye. "I know that you're scared and sad and traumatized. And I'm _sorry_."

Jenna sighs and turns so that her back is braced against his chest. His arms fold over her stomach as she leans back into his warmth. "Sorry for what? Not babysitting me while I cut some firewood? That's stupid, Ric, and you know it. I'm a grown woman and I don't need you peering over my shoulder while I can stand to be on my own for five minutes. Just because this happened," she gestures to the corpse, "doesn't mean I can't handle myself. I think it just proves that I can."

He tightens his grip. "But—Jesus, Jen…your _eyes_…" He can still see the terrified, frenzied look in them, when normally they're so calm and loving and _his_.

She sighs. "I'm sorry. But…I can take care of myself. Maybe I'm a little messed up…" she grins that rueful, lopsided grin that's now more sad than funny these days. "…but hell, at least I can survive this. I'm a goddamn survivor."

"I know," he breathes, lips pressed to her hair. "Believe me, I know." _And I'm sorry you have to be this way._

* * *

"What the hell happened?" Elena demands as soon as they reenter the house. "That scream—"

"It was Jenna," Damon states tiredly. Funny how easily they're all exhausted by just one incident these days. Elena flinches at _was_ and he hurriedly amends the statement. "There was a zombie, but she took care of it. She's okay."

"I thought Matt was on watch," she asks more than says.

"He is," Caroline answers. "Guess he got distracted or something." She leans back and her back collides with Damon's chest from where he's standing just slightly behind her. She jumps forward, as though startled to find him there. As though startled that she didn't _notice_ him, when she notices everything these days…like he's getting past her radar, becoming a normal thing in her life. And oh God, that freaks her out.

Damon's eyes are widened in shock similarly, but for him it's about how _natural_ it felt for her to be pressed up against him like that, like how Jenna and Alaric—an actual honest-to-God _couple_—were outside.

"Um…" she rubs her arm. "I'm just gonna…go fix…yeah." She practically runs off.

"Smooth," Elena snickers, whose new purpose in life is to tease the romantically-involved.

Damon sighs. "Screw you," he mutters, and then the spaghetti on the stove catches fire. He reaches for a dishtowel. "Perfect. Just perfect."

* * *

"Did you see how he looked at me?" Matt says, more to himself than to her. He's pacing circles into the roof. She touches his arm and he meets her gaze, reluctantly sitting on the edge like before, radiating guilt and sorrow.

Bonnie sighs and swings her legs over the roof like she had ten minutes ago. "Everyone makes mistakes, Matt," she tries to soothe, but that doesn't help. He looks up, wild-eyed with guilt.

"But I can't! I can't afford to make those mistakes!" he insists. "I couldn't afford it when I got into college, or when I was raising my sister, and I especially can't afford it now with all these damn zombies coming after us! Jenna could have died because of me. Alaric's right not to trust me."

She smoothes her hands down his chest, covered by his blue t-shirt. "Matt, you need to calm down. Breathe. You made a mistake. And that's okay. Nobody's hurt. See?" she gestures down the ground below, where Alaric and Jenna are softly speaking. "Jenna forgave you. Alaric's just being a worried boyfriend. It's okay."

"It's not," he mumbles. "Alaric is the closest thing I've ever had to a dad, Bon. He…protected me, when all of the other students Turned. And how did I repay him? I practically killed his girlfriend."

"But you didn't," she asserts. "And you're okay. She's okay. And Alaric will be okay as soon as he calms down a little. Besides, it's as much my fault as it is yours. I was kissing back, all right? Half of that blame is mine, Matt."

Matt bites his lip, refuses to meet her eye. "Bonnie…that kiss…"

"Do you regret it?" she inhales sharply. Getting tossed away by Jeremy was one thing, but throwing herself out there for Matt is completely different. She's trusted so many parts of her life to this guy she's only known for a few weeks. A stupid decision, in retrospect, and now she's wondering how she could have been such an idiot when he could so easily hurt her—

"Of course not!" he says, looking shocked. "Bonnie, I've wanted to do that since—" he cuts himself off, his eyes firmly trained on his shoes now. "It doesn't matter. I don't regret the kiss. I just regret what almost happened because of it. I should have been paying attention. I have ages to kiss you. I should have been watching."

Bonnie sighs, feeling a girlish thrill at the unspoken promise of _ages_. "Well, I'll watch with you this time. No more distractions. And, hey?" she catches his attention and a rare second of eye contact before he looks down again. "Alaric will forgive you as soon as he cools off. Promise."

He bites his lip again and takes her hand, more for comfort than romance. "I hope so."

She curls her fingers around his and hopes, too.

* * *

Jeremy and Anna are nestled into each other on the loveseat when Caroline stumbles in. "You okay?" Anna asks, lifting her head off Jeremy's shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm—" Caroline pauses, swallows, looks faintly like she's going to be sick. "Just…I'm fine. Thanks. Get back to your…soul-staring shit, or whatever." She exits, hurrying back to the room that she and Damon have failed to share for weeks. They always end up on the couch, sacked out with her head on his shoulder, and always claiming that it means nothing.

_Oh my God, how stupid am I?_

She can't allow this. She can't afford to get close to somebody like this, especially Damon. God, that moment at the CVS could have been brushed off, even the falling-asleep-together could have been tossed away like it meant nothing, but…being so close to him, so comfortable around him, making him a routine and a part of her life, _trusting_ him to brace her when she fell back against him without even realizing it…_that_, she can't ignore. _That_, she can't allow, because that's just like asking for Tyler to happen all over again. It's practically a guarantee.

She swallows, throwing herself on the bed and wishing she'd never woken up this morning. Especially not to Damon's arm thrown over her shoulders. She buries her face in the pillow and hopes that things will make sense when she wakes up, because she can feel sleep tingling on the edges of her mind.

The last thing she remembers is that the pillow smells like Damon, or maybe she's just imagining things.

* * *

A/N: Hey! So, I know it's been forever, but I hope you'll forgive me for such a long wait. Anyway, um, remember, **VampCaroline** needs to give me her request and then I can finish the next chapter, which I've already started on (I feel so productive!). I hope you all liked this chapter. Didja like the Monnie moment? Is Caroline getting freaked over nothing, or does she have legitimate fears over getting close to someone? Comment, question, critique, anything, but please be nice and please offer suggestions! I love you all and thank you so much.


	11. oh, i need this

A/N: Oh my god, you guys, it's been forever and I am SO SORRY. This is a really short chapter, mind you, and I'm almost done with the next one I swear, it'll be up in an hour or two. Maybe less. I APOLOGIZE SO MUCH PLEASE FORGIVE ME.

Disclaimer: I don't own which is great because I SUCK AND NEVER UPDATE I'M SO SORRY.

* * *

_oh, I need this _– Natalie Merchant, "My Skin"

* * *

"This is _exhausting_," Katherine snarls. "All I'm doing is picking things up, Stefan, for Christ's sake. I've been doing this for ages. I'm not even left-handed, it's not like I have to really get used to not using these two fingers. I never did anyway."

Stefan sighs. "You're the worst patient ever, Katherine."

"I try," she smirks.

Damon appeared in the doorway of the living room where they had been practicing Katherine's adjustment to her injuries. "Listen, lovebirds," he says, "time to go. Alaric's had a scare and he wants to leave, and we've spent too much time here anyway. We're getting soft. Pack up your stuff, be ready to leave in twenty minutes."

"What happened?" Stefan asks in shock, noting the tension in Damon's body language. The stiffness says everything Damon hasn't: someone nearly died.

"Jenna got attacked," the older brother finally says. "She's okay, but Alaric's freaked, and I don't blame him. We should just go so he can calm down. This place's been nice, but it's time to leave. Go get ready." He disappears, then reappears a second later. "Hey, um, you guys seen Care? She kinda ran off without saying anything."

Stefan bites his lip, and decides that Damon doesn't even realize he's calling Caroline _Care_ so affectionately. He chooses not to mention it, probably the best choice for everyone. "She went into the den, I think?" he offers up. "I think to go talk to Jer or Anna, they were in there."

"'Kay, thanks." Damon's gone.

"Well, let's go," Katherine snaps after a minute of silence, but her words aren't angry, just demanding. In fact, there's almost a hint of…playfulness in her tone. When he looks over at her, she's smiling that wild grin of hers, so different from the small smile she gave him before she went off to sacrifice herself. This smile is full of life.

God, he feels sappy, but when he reaches over to grab her arm and help her to the couch where her duffel is, he doesn't even mind when she tells him to stop it because goddammit, Stefan, she can _walk_.

He doesn't mind at all.

* * *

Jeremy and Anna direct him to the bedroom that he and Caroline have barely even occupied since their first night here. He finds her face down on the bed, hair strewn everywhere, arms hugging the life out of the pillow. He nudges her sneaker-clad foot with a hesitant hand, which gets a moan out of her. "C'mon, get up, Caroline," he says. "We're leaving before Alaric has a heart attack about this place."

She stirs and reluctantly sits up, clearing sleep from her eyes and avoiding eye contact with him. "Pack up everything?" she asks, but it's not really a question.

"Yeah." Damon takes in her sleep-tousled hair and heavy eyes, swallowing thickly. He grabs his own bag and starts shoving laundry into it as well a couple of his handguns. "Damn. I'm almost out of ammunition, gonna have to get more bullets."

"Me too," she confirms, tossing a bra into her duffel. Both of their faces flush and they elect to ignore it without even glancing at each other. Neither of them is easy to embarrass, but as he thinks of her back against his chest and she thinks of her panic towards their attachment, they both easily blush. "Um," she pauses, zipping up her bag, "Jenna's okay, right?"

"I think so," Damon says. "Alaric seems to be freaking out more than her, but I guess you never know. He charged in like five minutes later, still hanging on to her like she was gonna drop dead or something, and said we were leaving, that was that. Everyone else is packing, too."

She sighs and sits on the edge of the bed, duffel braced on her lap. "Where are we going this time?"

Damon shrugs and sits next to her. He tries to hide his slight hurt when she edges away from him and refuses to let their sides brush together like they have for the past several nights. "Uh," he rubs the back of his neck. "I dunno. He didn't mention it. I guess somewhere more secluded? We might be a little far from the town, but I guess zombies are wandering around, starting to get really hungry. That walker woulda taken a chunk from Jenna if it'd had the chance. Ric's just freaked. Can't blame him. Matt shoulda been watching. But Ric still shouldn't've reacted like that."

"We could go to the mountains," Caroline suggests quietly. "It's quiet up there. I used to go up there all the time, camping with Tyler. Hardly a soul out there. We'll have to worry a little about bears, but I guess it depends on the mountain. Hang on." She digs a map out of her duffel. "Yeah. There's a mountain just a few hours from here, up in South Carolina. Or we could just go back up to the mountains in Virginia, near Mystic Falls."

They're both silent for a long moment. "I'd like that," he offers his opinion. She nods soundlessly.

"Guys!" comes Elena's voice from the kitchen. "Let's _go_!"

Caroline sits up a little straighter. "Who told Bonnie and Matt?" she asks, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

"I did," he says, and she nods again. "Let's go." They stand together, just in-sync enough to startle Caroline further, and then they head towards the kitchen.

* * *

"Mountains it is," Alaric plans over the map Caroline has in her possession. "It'll take a couple hours, but I'm comfortable around that land, too. We should all be, except maybe you guys—Anna, Katherine," he gestures to the adopted sisters.

"Anna and I know how to take care of ourselves," Katherine says a little sharply. "We don't need to have been there before, we can survive on a mountain. We both know how to find food and set up shelters. There are probably rivers there, too, right?"

Stefan's hands curl into fists as he wonders exactly what kind of childhoods they had so that they know how to survive alone on a mountain. But he knows neither of them would elaborate if he was to ask, and obviously everyone else does too, so the subject goes untouched.

Sighing, Caroline points to the empty handgun on the hood of the car. "We need to get gas and bullets," she states firmly. "We're running out of both, and this long drive means we need more." She bends over the map. "Now, we can stay in the car we have, or we could get an RV or a bus or something. Personally, I'd prefer we get something else, because what we do have is cramped and needs to be refilled a lot."

"I'm not driving a school bus across a couple states," Alaric decides. "And I'm not riding in one, either. RV?"

"Yeah, we could get one with those braces on top, like guards, to keep us from falling off," Bonnie puts in. "Then a bunch of people could stay up on top and the inside wouldn't get so crowded." She leans over the map, dragging Matt slightly forward from where their hands are intertwined. "Um, there's an overnight stop just about an hour from here on the way there. We could pick up an RV there, just have to be careful about the walkers."

Caroline smiles a little at seeing Bonnie and Matt's handholding, but doesn't comment. "Okay," she says. "Well, let's get going. It's nearly dark, and we should get settled in the car before that happens."

* * *

At about eight at night, they find the truck stop and pull over. About ten minutes of shooting later, all the trucker zombies are dead and they've located an RV suitable to their size group. Damon, Caroline, Anna, Jeremy, Bonnie, and Matt are all staying up on top. Meanwhile, Stefan, Katherine, Elena, Alaric, and Jenna are inside the actual RV. Damon takes first shift, but they're not moving until morning.

"Aren't you tired?" Caroline asks, crawling a little closer to him…but far enough away that they aren't touching.

Is he tired? _As if_. The closer she is, the more electrified and alive he feels. "Um, not really," he answers instead, because, really, like he'd tell her _that_. He tosses the flashlight he's holding from hand to hand so he can see around the RV better. "I slept pretty heavy last night."

"No dreams again?" she teases.

"You'd notice, wouldn't you?" he shoots back, but instead of laughing, she quiets.

"Yeah," she admits, "I guess so." As if she needed that reminder that they've been so physically close these past few weeks. Her smile drops. "Well, um," she clears her throat, "I guess I'd better…uh…get to sleep. Wake me up in a couple of hours for my shift, 'kay?"

He tries not to let his curiosity show about her sudden closed-off manner. "Um, sure," he complies as she lies down and tries to sleep.

But for some reason, she's cold without his body heat next to hers.

* * *

The next morning, they've traveled till almost twelve when Alaric pulls over next to a grocery store. "I'm so sick of granola bars it's not even funny anymore," he declares. Almost everyone agrees—except for Stefan, who's weird and likes that "bunny food crap," as Damon calls it.

After they collect more reheat meals in boxes and cans (and thank God for the microwave in the RV), they're well on their way to Mystic Falls' mountains (just about two hours off) when they spot something…well, two somethings.

"A bookstore!" Bonnie gasps in happiness.

"A gun store!" Damon grins.

Side by side. What the fuck. "Who planned this?" Caroline asks. "I mean, seriously, why would you put a gun store right next to a bookstore? Just think of all the poor helpless booklovers that got shot hanging around here."

Damon makes a face. "I'm sure the gun owners were much more responsible than that. At least, before the outbreak. Then all those infected bookworms were free game."

Caroline makes a similar face, then relents. "All right. I can see you two are both itching to go." She clicks on her radio. "Hey, Alaric, can we stop for ammunition and books? Damon and Bonnie are about to have strokes on me and I don't think I can deal with that."

She hears a chuckle over the radio, then Alaric murmuring something to Jenna. "Sure," he says, and she can feel the RV slowing and then finally stopping in front of the stores. "Just make sure you all have your guns and knives and stuff. I think Elena wants to go in and find a magazine—she gets bored without being able to walk, y'know? So I'll stay here with Jen."

Caroline shrugs. "Okay." She clicks the radio off and they start to climb down the ladder attached to the RV roof. "Jenna and Alaric are staying here, but someone's gonna have to help me get Elena inside."

After biting his lip, Damon offers up, "I'll help."

_Great. More close time with Damon, just what I need._ She sighs. "Okay. Let's go ahead and help her out." Checking her handgun placed in the waistband of her jeans, she opens the RV door just as Stefan and Katherine make their way out. After watching Elena hobble down the steps, old crutches tucked underneath one arm, Damon and Caroline take one arm each and begin to help her inside.

"The minute I find newer, better crutches that don't hurt my arms, I'm going to cry with happiness," she mutters.

"All of us will," Damon deadpans, and then thinks with stunning clarity how happy he is that he and Elena aren't together anymore when he sees Elena's scowl and Caroline's half-hidden smile.

* * *

Elena's leaning on the magazine rack, trying to find a _People_ that isn't soaked in blood from their cleanup of the store's zombies, when she gets tackled.

_Who the fuck tackles someone on crutches?_ she thinks, and looks up at her attacker. She can almost ignore the stabbing pain in her legs from the fall. _Um. A very attractive asshole, that's who._

And he is, with that dark spiky hair that's so common these days (or it was before the outbreak, anyway) and dark, chocolate eyes. The light stubble across the lower half of his face makes him look his age—twenty-two, twenty-three? Tanned arms braced above her head, mouth slightly open as he stares down at her.

"Oh my goodness, you're—you're alive," he says, sounding shocked, and hot damn, is that a British accent she's catching? He scrambles off of her and helps her up until she's braced once again on her crutches. "I'm so sorry. I thought you were a—a—" he shrugs. "I don't know what you call them, but we call them zombies."

"Zombie is good," she pants, wind slightly knocked out of her. "So is 'Walker.'"

He nods. "I'm terribly sorry, I really did think you were one of the undead. No hard feelings, I hope?" He extends his hand, and hesitantly she reaches out to shake it. His grip is warm and firm in hers, and she almost doesn't hear the clattering of feet. She doesn't even turn until the sound of shotgun cocking disturbs her looking into his oddly captivating eyes.

"Put the gun down, Damon," she says tiredly, and lets go of his hand. "He didn't mean to. You don't have to shoot him, he's safe." She looks him over, but there's no blood on him, just a handgun tucked into his waistband. "You're not bitten, are you?"

The man shakes his head. "No, I'm fine. What about all of you?" he gestures to the group that has formed: Damon, Caroline, Bonnie, and Matt—all of whom chose a bookstore over a gun store (though it was probably to keep an eye on Caroline, in Damon's case).

"We're fine," Damon says harshly. "Who are you?"

The man smiles slightly. "I'm Elijah Mikaelson. I live in this town. Who are you?"

Caroline places a hand on Damon's arm and he reluctantly lowers the gun. "I'm Caroline Forbes," she says when he still doesn't speak. "This is Damon Salvatore, Bonnie Bennett, and Matt Donovan. Pleased to meet you."

"I'm Elena," Elena tells him, shifting to add more weight onto one crutch. "Elena Gilbert."

His eyes are glued to her lips. "Pleasure," he murmurs. She almost expects him to take her hand and kiss her knuckles, but thankfully he doesn't—she doesn't know how she would prevent the others from teasing her about that. "Is this all of you?" he asks, clearing his throat.

"No. There are more." Caroline takes out her knife. "They have guns, too."

"Oh, relax, I'm not going to harm you," Elijah tells her with a bit of a laugh. "It'd be stupid to do that, don't you think? We might be the only ones left in this part of the United States."

"So…you're alone?" Caroline asks him hesitantly, lowering her knife.

"No." The knife goes back up. "Calm down, my family is back at my home. They won't harm you either once you prove that you haven't been bitten. You're lucky that I trust you—" his eyes go back to Elena "—or I'd probably have shot the lot of you. No chances taken, the family motto. Kill first and ask questions never."

Bonnie bursts out into laughter. "Sorry," she says, covering her mouth with her fingers as Matt looks at her with a worried expression, "I just realized…we're talking about killing each other. In a bookstore. During the apocalypse."

Her laughing fit seems to have diffused the tension in the room. Damon relaxes and lowers his gun all of the way, a small smile dancing on his lips, and Caroline throws her head back without abandon while Matt gazes down at Bonnie with slight adoration in his eyes. Calmly, Elijah lets a slight, amused grin play on his luscious little mouth (Elena's daydreaming, but can you freaking blame her?) and picks a book off of a shelf nearby. "Well, I've gotten what I came for," he says, and Elena feels a sinking in her chest that she doesn't like at all. It's like when she saw Stefan bent over Katherine, but…different. "If you'd like to come home with me, all of you, my family could give you shelter for the night."

"Why are you being so nice to us?" Caroline asks, and her voice doesn't convey the suspicion that Elena knows is there. Caroline doesn't trust strangers—she never has, and she definitely doesn't now.

Elijah shrugs. "Like I said, we might be the only humans left in this part of the country. Might as well be nice to each other."

Caroline still seems a little suspicious—it may have been a couple of years, but Elena still knows how to read her friend—but she accepts this explanation, tucking the knife back into the backpack she's carrying around. "Okay," she says. "We have other people to ask, but I don't know why they'd say no. Promise you and your family aren't serial killers?"

Elijah shifts uncomfortably. "Promise," he offers up with a gorgeous half-smile, and Elena feels her heart drop into her stomach with those puppy eyes on her. "I'll wait here, if necessary."

"I'll go ask Alaric and get the others from the gun store," Bonnie tells them and leaves, dragging Matt with her.

Elijah tilts his head toward them as they leave and locks eyes with Elena. "Are they…?"

"Yeah," Elena says. "They are."

"It's none of my business, of course, and I apologize. I was simply curious and trying to make conversation," he says apologetically. She just shakes her head and starts combing through the magazine rack again. He reaches behind the ones she's looking for and pulls out a bloodstain-free _People_ magazine. "I trust this is what you were looking for?"

Elena takes it hesitantly. "Yes. Thank you."

* * *

The house is large, some sort of goddamn mansion. Three guns are cocked at their heads before they've even fully entered the house, and Elijah just laughs them off. The blonde girl holding one of the shotguns peers at him with annoyance and curiosity but lowers her gun when he gestures for it. The older boy, with dark hair that's only a little lighter than Elijah's, lowers his as well. Only the younger boy, shorter and with spikier dark hair, keeps his up as he snarls at Elijah, "What strangers have you brought upon us, brother?"

"Ignore Kol," Elijah advises everyone else. "He has a bit of a flair for the dramatics. He was in the drama club before the outbreak happened, a very good Tybalt, if I may say."

Kol huffs and mutters but puts his gun down. Footsteps thudding down the hall alert them to another presence just as a dark-blonde, green-blue-eyed man strides in. He seems about the same age as Elijah and Caroline shifts uncomfortably as he strides past her. "Who are all these strangers, brother?" the man demands. "Are they infected?"

"No," Elijah answers. "I've already done this with Kol, Klaus, and I don't have a mind to do it with you. We ran into each other. They need shelter for the night that we can provide. We will allow them to stay, just until morning. Then they will leave. They have promised."

"It was an agreement we came to," Alaric says, stepping up, clenching Jenna's fingers in his tightly.

Klaus surveys all of them: Jenna and Alaric, Bonnie and Matt, Jeremy and Anna, Stefan, Katherine, Damon, and Caroline. Elena standing next to Elijah. "My, my, my, it's like watching a reality show," he says with more of a hint of an accent than Elijah displays—but his is more all-over-the-place than just British. "Back when reality shows were more relevant and existent, anyway. 'Couples Surviving Zombies.' I gag just thinking about it."

"Hush," the girl dismisses. "You talk too much, Klaus."

"You know me, Rebecca," Klaus smiles, and there's something feral to it. His eyes seem almost golden in the light now, gold with a tinge of red to it. "I must always get the last word in."

"We know," Kol says impatiently. "Now, will we allow them to stay or not? I say we shoot them all."

"Do not be unwise, brother," the other one interrupts. "We'll allow them to stay the night." Though the others don't seem to listen to him, but rather to Klaus, no one says anything else and apparently they're to be allowed to stay.

"This is Finn," Elijah introduces. After all the introductions have been done, he leads them from guestroom to guestroom. "You'll be staying here, loves," he gestures to Bonnie and Elena. A room is given to Anna and Katherine, Stefan and Matt, Alaric and Damon, and Caroline and Jenna.

That night none of them really sleep. And two of them leave their rooms to slip into someone else's.

* * *

A/N: I know it's been forever, you guys, and to be honest, if any of you read this I'll be surprised. It's been ages, loves. I know this chapter didn't really have a lot, it basically just introduced the mansion and the Mikaelsons and that's kinda it. But hopefully the next chapter will excite you guys, and it should be up really super soon. Like, within an hour soon. Tell me anything in a review, loves! What did you think about horny, lovestruck Elena? Freaked out Alaric? Scared-of-commitment Caroline? Tell me anything, you guys! Critiques, questions, comments, etc. All that jazz. Please. And offer suggestions! I love them. I love you all and I'm so sorry, thank you so much for continuing to read my stuff. Anyone have any ideas? Anyone? Anyone? ...Bueller?


	12. this is our ungodly hour

A/N: I have to warn you guys, this chapter is a little dark. (Minor) character death(s). Be warned. But thank you all so much! This chapter should incorporate the request made by _VampCaroline_ back from awhile ago, and it sort-of-halfway-I'm-so-sorry meets a couple of requests from _starzee_, who _VampCaroline _requested I talk to. I've enjoyed all of _starzee_'s suggestions, unfortunately none of them fit at this time all-of-the-way so I did the best that I could. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Warning: minor character death(s), vomiting, PTSD, trauma, language OF COURSE (this will probably go for the rest of the fic, but I'll continue to put the warnings up)

Disclaimer: I don't own TVD. Also, I'm very behind, so that wouldn't work out at all.

Thanks to: _starzee_, who has been so genuinely and selflessly helpful in giving me ideas for this chapter. None of them really worked out, as I've already stated, but I loved them all nonetheless. This reminds me to mention that **EVERYONE** can send me requests in a PM or a review. I can't say that I'll take them and use them, but I love to listen to them. It's what decided between Jeremy/Anna and Jeremy/Bonnie, and also Stefan and Katherine having their flirtation. It decided that the Originals would show up, however briefly, and you guys can _keep sending requests. _Really. I love it, and I love you guys all so much. Thank you for reading my story.

A/N 2: You guys might really hate me for this... *cringes* Sorry. Remember, I said the Originals were gonna have a brief stay here, so please don't kill me. I'm kinda terrified to post this, so please don't send an angry mob after me. Please. *hides* Um, enjoy?

* * *

_this is our ungodly hour_ – The Fray, "Ungodly Hour"

* * *

They have lasagna, courtesy of Klaus's cooking, and Caroline chokes when his hand finds her leg under the table. "How have you been enjoying the apocalypse, Caroline?" he asks, batting his eyelashes theatrically, and squeezes her thigh.

"Um…about as much as any other living person," she forces out, forcibly removing his hand from her leg. As attractive and older and charming as he is…she doesn't feel a spark. All she feels is Damon's eyes on hers, burning with something she'd almost call jealousy, and she tries to ignore both of them during the rest of dinner, despite Klaus's over-the-top attempts at flirtation.

Meanwhile, Elijah and Elena make conversation, discovering how similar they are, and Katherine successfully navigates her way through dinner minus two fingers. Stefan beams with pride and Jeremy makes fun of _Lady and the Tramp_ with Anna.

Across the table, Damon glowers at Klaus and ignores Rebekah's flirtation.

* * *

That night, she feels like an idiot, sneaking into someone's room like this. Not to mention, she doesn't even know where Elijah's room is. _And_, it is extremely hard to "sneak" in fucking _crutches_.

Elena sighs, feeling along the wall in the dark. She knows Elijah's room has to be on this hall, and the one with the pink sign on the door saying _Back the Fuck Off, I've Got a Gun_ in sparkles is probably Rebecca's. Or maybe Klaus's. She sort of got that vibe from him, but it's always hard to be sure. Finally, she gets past the door with a sarcastic WELCOME mat—Kol's, probably—and reaches a plain wooden door that's probably Elijah's. It's either his or Finn's, but there's only one way to find out, so she knocks.

A soft British accent and a smile greet her as she enters.

* * *

Stefan's unpacking when Damon enters the room, muttering about Caroline. "What was that?" he asks, wondering how Katherine is settling. Anna might care a lot about her sister, but she hasn't worked as much with Katherine as he has.

"Just hoping she's okay, it's a new place and all," Damon mumbles, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck.

He doesn't want to start an argument, which he knows is likely with Damon, but he has to ask. "I've seen the way you look at her," he tells his older brother. And he has. When Caroline's in the room, Damon can't seem to look away from her for long, and his eyes are always so incredibly soft when they look at her, softer than Stefan remembers from before Caroline came into their lives. "Why don't you do anything about it? You've never held back before."

And Damon looks pissed. "I don't want to talk about it."

Stefan sighs. "Damon, what's wrong with you? I've never seen a girl get under your skin so much before."

Damon explodes. "I don't know! I think about her _all the time_—if she'd like something I like, if she's safe, if she needs anything, if she wants anything, if she's comfortable, if she's happy. And it hurts to think about her with that Tyler guy…or with anyone else. When I touch her, there's sparks and I feel like…" he softens. "I feel like being gentle or something. When I touch her, when I look at her—I don't wanna just be with her like I've been with other people, you know? I wanna make her happy and I don't know how." He stares down at his hands, refusing to make eye contact.

"You could…" Stefan hesitates, knows how secretly sensitive Damon is, decides to go with it anyway. "You could make her happy by just being with her."

Damon scoffs. "And what good would that do? We're a ragtag little team of survivors, and you know we won't make it through just as much as I do. We might make it for a while, but—do I really wanna do that to her? Make her connect to me, only to lose me?"

"Damon," Stefan says gently. "She's already connected to you. I don't think it matters much now if you kiss her or not, because she needs you already, but if you do I think it would make both of you much happier."

Sighing, Damon runs his fingers through his hair and slumps on his bed. "I just—even if she doesn't lose me, then I'll lose her," he says bleakly. "And I can't. I couldn't stand to lose her." He sighs again. "Don't you understand?"

"Of course I do," Stefan says softly, thinking of Katherine unconscious in his arms, burning up with fever. He claps a hand on Damon's shoulder and sits next to him. "Just…think about telling her, Damon. She does care about you."

Damon doesn't say yes, but he doesn't say no, either. To be quite honest, he doesn't know what to say.

And at the end of the doorway, Caroline blinks and flees. She wouldn't know what to say, either.

* * *

The kitchen only has a few bottles of wine in it, so she takes one. Grabs a glass. Drinks the whole bottle. Tries not to hyperventilate. _Oh my God, no, he can't feel that way about me, I can't take that, what do I do, I need to finish this glass, just another one, oh my God, oh my God I can't breathe what do I do what do I—_

She practically runs down the hall, ignores the telltale signs of her drunkenness, hopes he's still awake. The door eases open at her single quiet knock and he smiles at her. "Hello, my dear."

Ignoring the terror in her stomach, she swallows the fear in her throat and smiles at him. "It's Klaus, right?" she asks.

His grin widens. "Exactly. Pleasure."

She slips inside to his beckoning crooked finger and wolfish grin.

* * *

Sighing, Damon scoops up the unused hair gel bottle. "I need to give this back to Caroline," he says, mostly to himself, but sees Stefan looking up out of the corner of his eye. "I borrowed it from her a while back," he explains, "when we were first getting to know her."

"Oh," Stefan says. "But you never used it?"

"It was kind of an…excuse," Damon says, hoping he isn't blushing because, for God's sake, Damon Salvatore doesn't _blush_.

Stefan grins. "Oh. _Oh_."

"Shut up," Damon snaps at his little brother, slapping the back of his head as he exits the room. He wanders down the hall, finding Jenna sleeping alone in the room she was supposed to be sharing with Caroline. _Maybe she went to go sleep in the living room_, he thinks. _She's been doing that for a while now, maybe it's become a habit._ He wanders down to where he thinks the living room might be, and is halfway there when he hears it.

Laughter.

Caroline's laughter. And a low rumble along with it.

He edges closer to Klaus's room and cracks the door open. _Bodies on top of the sheets, giggling, her hair flung across the pillows, and oh God she's more beautiful than ever before, she's more beautiful than anything, and she's with _Klaus—

The hair gel nearly slips from his fingers, but he recovers himself and calmly walks back down the hall, mind at a dead standstill and heart along with it.

* * *

"Caroline wasn't in her room when I woke up," Jenna tells Alaric the next morning.

Alaric yawns and shrugs a little, watching Kol flip bacon. "Maybe she just went to go sleep in the living room. That was a habit of hers and Damon's before we left the cabin."

Caroline stumbles in, still wearing her tank top and jeans from the night before.

"Whoa, girl, did you even put on pajamas last night?" Jenna teases.

"No," Caroline mumbles, shamefaced. She looks down at the tiles. "Just…don't mention it, okay? Especially not to Damon."

"You don't have to," Damon says from behind, leaning against the doorway. "It's okay, I already know. You were a little loud." He pinches the bridge of this nose with his fingers, eyes tight and hardened. There's no anger like she expected, though. Just…coldness.

"Damon, let me expl—" she whispers, disregarding her slight hangover, hesitantly walking closer to him.

He holds out a hand to stop her. "It's okay," he interrupts her. "I'm fine. Just…don't bring it up. It's okay."

Bringing her fingers to her lips, she exhales shakily. "Please…"

"So, Alaric, what do you think about leaving? When should we go?" Damon says too loudly, stepping past her and clapping a hand on Alaric's shoulder.

Ric stares at them weirdly. "Um. This morning, I guess," he says, clearing his throat. "That's what we had planned. I figured we'd leave after breakfast. What do you think?"

"Sounds good," Damon replies, and joins Kol to help with breakfast (and to avoid Caroline).

* * *

They're all packed, warming up the RV, when Elena hobbles out, balancing on Elijah's arm instead of her crutches. "I can't go," she tells Jeremy and Jenna, smiling a little sadly. "But I love you guys. And we can keep in contact! Elijah has radios." She hands one to Jenna.

"Why aren't you coming?" Jeremy stammers, his hand leaving Anna's waist. He might love her, but this is _Elena_, his big sister. He reaches for her jacket.

Elena gently tugs away. "Because I found my own prince charming. So you have to go off with your princess and be happy, Jer. Because I need to do this on my own. For the first time in a long time…I'm happy," she looks up at Elijah with a grin. He smiles back at her, silent. Letting her do this on her own. It's been a long time since someone let her do something on her own, and even longer since someone needed her. "He makes me happy, Jer."

Bonnie pushes forward, still clinging to Matt's hand, and attacks Elena with a monster hug. "I love you," she whispers into her friend's ear.

"You too," Elena says softly, and throws her arms around Bonnie's neck. "But we'll keep in touch!"

She hugs everyone—even Stefan, who looks awkward; even Katherine, who looks awkward and even a little annoyed; even stiff, cold Damon. Even Caroline, who wraps her arms around her tightly for just a second and it's like they're ten again. Like they're best friends again. "You stay off those legs," Caroline voices, sounding suspiciously rough. Her voice cracks a little. "You hear me? I'll radio you in a couple of weeks and tell you when it's okay to start trying to walk. Got me?"

"I gotcha," Elena laughs, and then Caroline lets her go.

And then…

…and then it all goes to hell.

* * *

The first zombie throws itself on Matt, who pushes it back off after a second, looking terrified. Suddenly, the whole swarm is on them.

There's screaming.

There's blood.

There's gunshots.

Horrifying standstill minutes, and she can't heard any sound whatsoever except the ringing in her ears as her eyes lock on the zombie wrestling her to the ground. She goes down hard, gun clattering out of her hands, and scrambles to keep the zombie up with one hand and reach for the knife in her belt with the other. The zombie breathes down on her, reeking of death and meat, terrifyingly _human_ meat, and she holds back a scream.

_I'm just seventeen. I don't wanna die._

The strength to push it off comes to her for a rare second, and she uses that to grab the knife from her belt and stab at it until it goes down. She doesn't even notice the blood in her hair, on her tank top, soaking into her skin, she's just grateful that it isn't her own.

Without even thinking about it, her eyes search through the crowd of the undead and the survivors to find Damon. He's wrestling with one, prying it off of Jenna, and she runs forward to stab it in the back while he holds it away from him and Jenna. His eyes seem to be begging to meet hers, full of emotion, but she doesn't wait for him to give her that icy stare again. She just keeps moving forward, fighting, hoping she doesn't get bitten.

She hears two screams—Katherine's and Stefan's—but she surges onward, knowing this needs to end as soon as possible.

* * *

It's over within minutes, but it feels like lifetimes.

* * *

They stand there on the porch, panting, and she blinks the blood and tears and god-knows-what-else from her eyes to find Damon bent over Stefan, holding his limp body.

_Oh my god, not Stefan, please, please not St—_

Stefan jerks up, gagging, and rolls over onto his side to retch weakly. That's when Caroline notices the indentations, the bloody teeth marks, on his hand, just above his wrist. "Oh my God," she whispers, and continues surveying around. Rebekah, Finn, and Kol are dead, throats ripped out and faces clawed to pieces. Bonnie and Matt are leaning on each other against the structure of the house. Elena is hiding her face in Elijah's coat while he bites his lip at his siblings' corpses. Klaus is knelt next to Rebekah's body, covering his mouth, gun forgotten in his other hand. Alaric, Jenna, Anna, and Jeremy are all standing over a zombie or another, checking to see if it's dead or not. Zombie corpses litter the porch amongst the human bodies.

_We have to do something about Stefan._ She straightens herself. "Come on," she urges Damon, pushing at him to stand up. "We have to get him inside and do something."

"Do what?" he demands, tension high in the air.

"_I don't know!_" she screams, and _why_ is this up to _her_? "We have to _fix_ him!"

"In case you haven't noticed, his hand's been practically bitten off! What are we gonna do?" Damon hisses.

Katherine stands. "The same thing that I did with my fingers." She looks down at the bandaged appendages. "You might wanna be a little more careful than I was, though, since I nearly died from the infection. Come on. Get him inside, Damon."

Damon struggles to lift Stefan in his arms, all of the fight apparently gone from him, and Katherine opens the door to the house for him. The high-energy level and tension are still there, but suddenly everything seems hopeless and slow. Caroline follows and ducks into the kitchen for a butcher knife. Everyone else has filed inside as well, and Alaric is nursing a cut on his hand from dropping his knife during the fight. "I haven't been bitten," he says when everyone sees him looking at him, "it just hurts. I need to bandage it up, but I'll be okay."

Left without Alaric to be their surgeon, Caroline notices all of their eyes on her. Dammit. Left for her to take charge. She takes in a deep breath. "Damon, put him in the bedroom. Elena, take this knife and put it in boiling water. We have to clean it." She hands the knife to the nervous girl. "Anna, go with her, make sure it gets really clean. Elijah, Klaus, Damon, I want you to hold him down. This is gonna hurt him."

"I—I _can't_," Damon says brokenly, and she lets him.

"Okay. Just…sit there, then. Do whatever you need to do," she replies firmly. "Katherine, I want you to hold his hand—the left one, of course, the unbitten one. Jeremy, Alaric, go out there and clean up the dead. Bury them if you need to. Jenna, go out there and stand guard so more don't get in. Am I missing anyone?"

Bonnie and Matt step forward. "Okay, Bonnie, I need you to get some things. I need peroxide or whiskey, whichever's closest. Get me bandages. Thick ones. Gauze if there's any there. Get all of those and any antibiotics. Check the bathroom's medicine cabinet, even the kitchen. Matt, I want you to get something for me to stitch with. Knitting needles, sewing, whatever. And thread, dental floss if there isn't anything else."

Everyone ducks off to do what they're told, and Anna and Elena return soon after with a clean knife that's hot to the touch. Caroline grips the handle and approaches the bed Stefan's lying on. "Elijah, Klaus, hold him down. Hard, okay? We can't chance him moving, I could accidentally cut too far. As it is, we're hit and miss with several arteries, so it's important that he stays very still. Please." She steadies herself with a calming breath but feels no calmer. _Goddammit, what am I supposed to do? Oh my God, what if I kill him?_

Taking another deep breath, she holds the knife to Stefan's hand just beyond the bite mark. Hopefully, the poison hasn't spread yet. She raises the knife up and lowers it back down, like a golfer practicing where to swing and how hard. "Hurry up!" Klaus urges. "Can't hold him down for long, he's starting to wake up."

"Whiskey," she decides. "We don't have any anesthesia, but maybe that'll do the trick. Anna, go get some hard liquor for him. Please."

Anna runs off and returns moments later. Elijah pours half of the bottle down Stefan's throat and thankfully the unconscious man doesn't choke, just stirs and swallows. When she's decided that he's decently drunk—enough to take the edge off, anyway, though that's nowhere close to enough entirely—Caroline presses the knife to the bite mark again. Taking a deep breath once more, she raises it up, this time with enough force that it should take his hand completely off when it comes back down.

She doesn't even notice the tears running down her face, leaving streaks in the blood that's covering her, coating her hair and face and arms and legs and clothes, soaking everything that she is until she's just blood and tears.

She has to do this. Now. Stefan moans.

She brings the knife down. And he screams.

* * *

Elijah's stitching up and wrapping Stefan's injury, so she takes the moment to sprint out of the room and find the bushes outside. Her hair hangs in her face afterwards, strands of it turning sticky red (her blood? A zombie's? Stefan's?) while she moans out sobs and feels her stomach clench under her blood-soaked tank top, unwilling to open her eyes and see the carnage that this world has become.

While she's leaned over the side of the porch, retching, Damon is trying not to cry in the bedroom while Stefan continues screaming.

Stefan continues screaming. She enters in and tries to put a hand on Damon's shoulder, but he shrugs her off and she remembers how angry he is, how much she screwed up, how much is wrong with the world now.

Stefan continues moaning. The bodies are buried and the rest of them come in. Caroline tells them to rest, she'll take first watch. She wipes her mouth subconsciously and goes out to the porch to pick up her gun.

Stefan continues crying. Katherine presses his uninjured hand harder, letting him hold her tightly, like a lifeline, to the point where he might've fractured a finger, and then thankfully he's unconscious.

But they can still hear him screaming in their ears.

* * *

Later that night, Jenna is in the bed when Alaric returns. They had shared separate rooms before, but they don't want to be apart tonight. "He's finally sleeping," he reports. "Caroline took this watch. Katherine and Damon haven't left him yet, so I think it's all right. And Bonnie's on watch. We should be fine for tonight."

"We almost died," Jenna responds.

"I know," he sighs. "I wish I could protect them better, Jen. I wish I could protect _you_ better. But we have to stay here now, at least until we don't have to worry about Stefan getting infected. It's a good place, we have a good defense system. We were careless, but I think it will be better now."

Jenna plays with the bedcovers. "There was this one moment…" she stops, takes a breath. "…this one moment where I thought we were gonna die," she continues. "And for a minute…I almost didn't mind." She sighs. "I'm a terrible person."

He reaches down and takes her hand. "Jenna, we've all been through so much. It's not terrible to accept your death when it looks like it's staring you in the face."

She pushes him off. "Ric, you don't understand! I practically condemned myself to death! And someone else! I nearly killed _someone else_."

"Who? Elena? Jeremy?"

Jenna refuses to let him take her hand again. "No. My baby." She exhales shakily. "_Our_ baby. I'm pregnant, Alaric. I took the test last night, Rebekah had some in the bathroom, and I—I'm pregnant, and I nearly let the baby die today. And it would have been _all my fault_. And that can never happen again. I can't ever let that happen again." She looks up at him with tearful eyes. "Please don't ever let me give up for a second time."

After a moment, she bites her lip and edges away. "I understand if you want to be alone—"

"Shut up, Jenna," he says harshly, his eyes wet, and tugs her closer. "I love you. I have loved you since the day I met you. So shut up. Because I love our baby too." He wraps his arms around her and lets his fingers interlock over her stomach that contains a growing life. "And I will never let anything happen to either of you ever again."

* * *

That night, he takes the shift after Caroline to let her get some sleep. He ignores Damon and Katherine who are seated by Stefan's bedside while he tosses, turns, and moans feverishly in his sleep. Caroline said _it's okay as long as he doesn't go over 102°F, wake me up if that happens, thanks so much, ohmygod I'm so tired, wake me up if anything happens good or bad thank you so much really this is great thank you remember wake up someone else if you get tired—_

But he isn't tired, probably won't ever get the chance to be tired again. He stares down at Stefan's bed and waits for his eyes to fall shut, but they don't. He's wide awake, probably for forever now. At least, for his forever, whatever's left—couple days, maybe.

He rubs at his neck and the teeth marks that are slowly spreading infection through his body. It's a small bite, a slow burn, a sluggish and unhurried process. Killing him deliberately and gradually. He prods at the bite, winces at the sharp pain he feels.

Still, he has a while to stay, to watch the people he's grown to love, to protect Bonnie for just a little longer before he breaks her heart.

Matt swallows and settles in for the watch.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was kind of dark. Sorry for those of you who don't prefer that stuff, but it's necessary with this kind of storyline, at least for me. Please, leave me a review with critiques, comments, questions, requests, etc. And remember, the 200th reviewer will get a request...probably a really big request at this point. Remember, you can tell me anything as long as it's polite! Don't be afraid, I want to know what you guys are thinking, what you guys want.

Also...I'm still crying over what's happening to Matt, I'm so goddamn sorry. It's been planned from the beginning, but I don't know what I'm trying to do to myself, this is way too hard.


	13. only seconds left to tell you

A/N: Wow, okay, so again, I suck at updating things, but I think this one's not had too long of a wait. Hopefully you all won't hate me for this one. Um, this one doesn't have a lot of Daroline, and so I'm sorry, but that's just how it is and the next chapter will have more. Yes, I know, I'm making promises, but since I've written over half of the next chapter I think I'm right. Hopefully things will get happier after this chapter, though there are still a lot more issues to deal with. I've decided that we'll end with the fifteenth chapter, sorry, and maybe there will be a sequel, maybe not. _Yumel_ was the 200th reviewer, so hopefully I'll have a request to fulfill by the time I finish the next chapter! See you all again soon. :D

A/N 2: This chapter was written to Rachael Yamagata's "Pause the Tragic Ending." It's a beautiful sad song and deeply inspired most of what happened in this chapter. BTW, this chapter is a bit Matt-centric, my apologies. The Daroline is not strong in this one. I'll understand if you want to give up. However, we are coming to a close in this story, so if you want to see the ending, just stick around a little more, okay? Thanks, loves. I'm sorry about this chapter in particular. I might've cried about six or seven times trying to write it, so it's not my best. Sorry.

Disclaimer: Don't own.

Warning: _**CHARACTER DEATH**_, PTSD, trauma, language

* * *

_only seconds left to tell you how I need you every night_

— Rachael Yamagata, "Pause the Tragic Ending"

* * *

The morning brings a quiet, sickly silence.

Katherine's halfway awake as dawn comes, just barely stirring from sleep, a dream about her and someone that she knows all too well still lingering in her mind, when she feels it. Her eyes barely open, hardly daring to believe it, and she looks down at the bed she's sitting next to in a chair.

The still body of Stefan meets her eyes and she decides it couldn't have happened.

But it happens again, just a second later. She feels the squeeze of his fingers in hers.

An hour later, his eyes just barely open and she can see the strain of exhaustion and pain in him. She slips more of the antibiotics and pain relievers down his throat, but she remembers from her hazy but red-with-agony dreams that they won't be enough. Still, he halfway smiles at her before fading back into drugged, suffering unconsciousness.

She settles back into her chair and notices Matt looking at her. He's tugging at his shirt and neck, fingering at a bandage he said was from letting a zombie mess with his hold on his knife for a second. _Matt doesn't have a knife, though._ Still, maybe he borrowed one from somebody or picked it up during the fight. She doesn't bother with it after that, just turns back to Stefan's prone form. He's still again, face not even creased with pain, and she checks his forehead and finds the fever down from before.

That's good.

"Who's got next shift?" she asks.

Matt shrugs. "Everyone'll be up in a minute. I guess they'll choose somebody. Not like it matters, doesn't look like you're leaving anytime soon, and then there's him," he gestures with his head to Damon asleep in his chair, "so I guess we're good on people watching out for Stefan. You two are like some mother hens."

Katherine bites her lip, decides not to kill him until later for calling her that, and lets herself slip into an easy, light sleep.

* * *

When she wakes the next morning, she doesn't immediately remember. But the images flashing in her head remind her that what happened was real, that she didn't dream it up, that Stefan is lying in the next room missing a hand that she cut off to save his life, that there are several bodies buried in the backyard, that she still doesn't know how to breathe right again.

Running her fingers through her hair, Caroline tells herself to suck it up and go out there. Stefan needs monitoring, and Matt and Katherine need sleep. _What he really needs is an IV,_ she thinks guiltily. _He lost so much blood and I bet he won't drink anything either. I'm gonna have to send someone to the hospital._

After everyone's awake, she announces this plan. "I know Katherine got by without one," she says, "and that was with an infection. But an IV will decrease his chance of infection _and_ it will hydrate him better than we could. I know sending someone to the hospital is like asking for a bloodbath, but—"

"I wanna go," Matt says immediately. Like he has a death wish or something.

Damon stands from his sitting position next to Stefan's unconscious body. "Me, too. He's my brother, Caroline," he argues when he sees the stubborn look on her face. "I deserve to go. I can look out for him better than anybody else, and this is how I need to do it."

She swallows. "Fine," she forces out. The thought of Damon in danger like that—it drives her crazy. But if he needs to do it…besides, it's not like he's gonna listen to her anyway. "Be back as soon as you can. I'll make you a list of things to try and find. A 'necessary' list and an 'if-you-can-find-it' list."

Bonnie speaks quietly to Matt while she's writing it up, but she can still hear them. "I don't want you to go," Bonnie tells him. "I just know that it's going to be dangerous. I mean, think of all the zombies that are gonna be at a hospital. That's where everybody went after the outbreak started. It's like going on a suicide mission. I don't want you to go. I've got a bad feeling about this."

With a smile, Matt gently takes her hand. "Bon, I'm doing what I need to do here. Trust me. If I had to die any way—I'd rather go this way," he grimaces. "Instead of—um, anything else. Just…trust me. If I can, I'll come back to you. If I can't…" he brushes her hair over her ear. "Well. I love you, okay?" he smiles at her.

Apparently those are not the right words to say, because her face crumples up and she covers it with one hand, the other still being clung to tenaciously by Matt. "This is you saying goodbye," she insists. "And I don't want you to do that! I don't ever want to say goodbye to you."

"I have to do this," he says to her gently, and then her face is against his chest and she can't breathe and everything hurts. She beats against his chest feebly a few times with a fist, then stops abruptly when he grabs that hand too.

"This is because you feel guilty, isn't it!" she cries. "You don't _need_ to, Matt, I promise you didn't do anything wrong! Alaric overreacted and it's time to get over it. You don't need to go, Matt. Someone else can go. I'd go if you didn't have to." She digs her fingers into the comforting dark blue of his shirt, something that matches his eyes. "Please don't go," she whispers, resting her head against his chest, directly over his racing heartbeat.

A hand strokes its way through her hair, and she feels his dry lips press a quick kiss to the top of her head. "I have to," he repeats. "But I'll be back soon if I can. You know that. Bonnie, I—I love you." There's something in his voice that's pleading where it wasn't before, begging for her to say it back.

Of course she has to. "I love you too," she murmurs, and she's not too surprised to find she means it.

Matt touches his fingers to his neck and tries to smile back at her while they say goodbye.

* * *

Katherine's packing up her things when Anna comes across her. "Katherine, you can't go," Anna says patiently. "Stefan needs you here."

"Stefan's got Caroline and Alaric," her sister replies. "He's covered medically. Someone will be watching over him. He'll be okay until I get back."

"Then_ I _need you here," Anna responds, and there's something in her eyes now, something like memory and fear and desperation. "Do you know how much it hurt to see you like that?" she gestures to Stefan's form. "Unconscious, dying of fever, missing two fingers, infected, not sure if you were going to make it through the night? It was terrifying! I don't want to have to see you like that again. I can't."

Biting her lip, Katherine tries to be gentle. "You won't," she says, cupping Anna's cheek, and then she lets go. "But I have to go. I'll be back soon."

"That's what you said before!" Anna cries out. "In the car, before you almost killed yourself for people we barely knew!"

Katherine smiles. "It was worth it, An. You've got Jeremy, and I met Stefan. And there's Jenna and Alaric and Bonnie and Matt and Caroline and everyone else. We've got a family now, Anna. Before, it was just the two of us, but now I know that you'll be safe no matter what happens to me. It was definitely worth it. I'd do it all again. But this isn't it. I'll be back," she promises, pulling Anna in for a quick, tight hug. "I'll come back to you."

* * *

"Be safe," Caroline tells him, handing him her gun. "You'll need this."

"No, it's yours," he protests, still avoiding eye contact with her. "I have my own. Hell, I've got three of my own."

She smiles wearily. "Then take a fourth."

"But—"

"Damon, you've got to stay safe. For Stefan, for m—" she cuts herself off. "For everybody. Please. I'm not saying you don't have to go. If you say have to, then go. But if you're going, then I need you to stay safe." She swallows. "To come back. We need you. You're a skilled fighter, and Stefan's gonna need you when he wakes up."

Damon pauses, hesitating, then takes the gun. "Thanks."

"Just come back," she shoves a butcher knife at him, then tosses his leather jacket at him. "I washed it. Got most of the blood and brains out. You need it more than I do. It's cold out there."

He holds it by the collar, then puts the gun and knife down to pull the jacket on. "Thank you," he mumbles, and she grabs him by the jaw to make him look at her.

"Listen to me," she pokes at his chest and forces him to make eye contact with her. "I get that you're pissed with me, and you know what? You can be. There are more important things than making sure you're not mad at me. The important thing is that you get home safe. That's what you need to concentrate on. I don't want you thinking about Stefan or me or anything else. I want you focused on surviving. Now, here. Take this," she hands him the list. "Left column is the necessary things, IV and pain relievers mostly. You can probably find that stuff anywhere. Right column is stuff that would be good to have—heavy stuff, stuff we can go without but would be nice if one of us gets injured again. Just…stay safe, stay focused, and get as much of this as you can. Be back before nightfall if you can. One or two of us will stay up to let you in, watch over Stefan, that sort of stuff. I promise he won't be alone. I'll stay with him."

He takes the list and scans it. "Okay." He bites his lip. "Fine. Thanks."

"You're welcome." She sighs, swallows, then lets him go. "Now get out of here. Stefan needs you back as soon as you can. And take care of those two, they need you and we need them." She gestures to Matt and Katherine with her head. "Be back soon."

"I will," he picks up the weapons and walks outside with the other two.

The last she sees of him before they leave is his back to her as he drives away in Elijah's car.

* * *

When they get back, it's long past nightfall and she and Anna are the only ones who are awake.

The car rumbling up the drive is quiet, but she can still hear it. "Anna," she pushes at the younger girl. "Let's go let them inside."

Damon stumbles in first, soaked in blood and carrying medical supplies. "I got gauze," he tells her, breathless, and she can see that he's too tired to be angry at her at this moment. "Matt's carrying the IV kit and the saline bag. Katherine's got everything else. Medicines and thermometers and…stuff."

"Thank you," she responds, knowing that it's not enough but it's all she has to give. "Damon…thank you."

"Stop," he replies sharply. "How's Stefan?"

"He hasn't woken up," she tells him truthfully. "His fever hasn't changed much, gone down a few tenths of a degree. I don't think he's infected. It looks good, much better than when Katherine was hurt. He'll be fine in a couple of days as soon as we get the IV started and put some more antibiotics and fluids into him." She sees the doubt in his eyes and hurries forward in her update. "Really, Damon. I'm not a medical expert but I think he's gonna be okay."

Katherine steps inside. "He better be," she growls, and Caroline sees the exhaustion wearing down every bone in her body, draining her of all remaining energy. She knows how it feels.

"I'll set everything up," she tells them. "I slept earlier." That's a lie, but they don't need to know that. "You're all exhausted. Go get some sleep."

It takes some convincing, but Katherine and Damon shamble off to bed just as Matt enters the house. He looks worse than the both of them combined, eyes sunken into his face and paler than usual in the dim light of the hallway. "It was almost worse than the university," he pants, and she's worried that he's more out of breath than he should be.

"Let me examine you, you look pretty bad," she coaxes, and he flinches back.

"No, thanks," he replies. "I'm just exhausted. I'm gonna go to bed."

She bites her lip. "Would you wake up Bonnie first? Just let her know you're back. She was worried sick, I had to practically threaten her to get her to go to bed."

He nods with a small tired smile, shambling off and stumbling a little, and she wonders if he's okay just as Anna comes to tell her that she's going to bed. So she's got the next shift alone, unless she manages to wake someone up at this late hour. Which is not likely to happen, considering how everyone's tired beyond belief.

Including her. She sits, putting her head in her hands, and allows herself just to freak out for a minute. For just a moment, she lets herself tremble with exhaustion and terror and longing for the chance to rest, before calmly swallowing, stilling her shaking hands, and getting up to insert the IV into Stefan's healthy, whole wrist when the moment passes.

Pulling out a few beers from the fridge, she doesn't even notice Damon approaching her. "How is he, really?" he asks her, and she nearly drops the can she's holding.

"Goddammit, give me a little warning next time, Damon!" she says sharply, and she can see him holding back a little smug grin. "Shut up. And he's exactly like I said. The IV will fix him up, antibiotics'll help ward off infection, he'll probably wake up sometime in the next couple of days. Maybe even tomorrow, but don't get your hopes up. I'm going off instinct and hope, here, and two weeks of learning how to bandage wounds and keep infection away. That class was last year, too, so don't expect me to be a medical expert. No one is, around here. Wasn't there anyone alive in the hospital?"

His eyes get darker. "No. Everyone was undead or just dead. Must've killed themselves before they could get bitten. They got gnawed on for their trouble. Blood everywhere, people who blew their skulls off, people that tried to get away and were chewed into meat."

"Thanks for the graphic detail."

He sits down next to her heavily beside Stefan's bed. "Has he woken up at all today?"

"No. He stirred a little a couple of hours ago, moaned a bit, but he just needed a new dose of painkillers. His eyes are moving a little behind the lids, though. I think that means he'll come out of it soon. Or he could just be having really good dreams." She smiles. "Maybe it runs in the family."

He's silent.

"Oh, okay. That's not good to talk about," she chatters, opening the beer. Can you blame her for babbling when she's nervous? Can you blame her for freaking out about the fact that he seems to not even want to talk to her anymore? "I guess that's good to know. What, are we gonna erase everything from before we came here? Just…start over?"

"No."

"Okay. Well, what then?"

His eyes are dead with tiredness and resentment. "Caroline, you slept with Klaus. I think everything between us is over. I'll deal with you because you're saving my brother's life, and I'm grateful beyond belief for that, but—after that, I'll be civil, but that's it."

"Wait, I didn't—"

He stalks away. "Watch over my brother. Wake me up if anything happens," he calls over his shoulder. She lets him go and settles into her chair.

* * *

"Bonnie," he shakes her shoulder. Matt sighs, prodding her a little harder. "Bon, wake up."

She stirs. "Matt?" she questions sleepily, rubbing at her eyes. He smiles, watching her wake up. This is a pleasure he's never going to have again, most likely. It's nice getting to experience it once, anyway.

"Yeah, it's me. I'm home." The words slip from his mouth—too domestically, quickly, and easily—and he bites his lip. "You okay? Care said you were worried."

She's more awake now. "Yeah. I'm glad you're okay." She examines him, looking up and down. Thankfully, he's changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, something not covered in blood. "You are okay, right?"

He takes her hands. "I'm close enough."

"Good." She pulls him closer and kisses him, and he hopes she doesn't feel his feverish skin. "C'mere, I've got something for you," she whispers temptingly against his lips. Seductively, she pulls him down to the double bed. She managed to get a single room tonight since Elena's sleeping in Elijah's room now and Caroline's staying up for the night shift. He falls on top of her, bracing on shaky hands and knees.

"Bon, I don't—we shouldn't—" he says as she presses her lips to his throat, just above the bite that's been heavily bandaged. Thankfully, she avoids it by some lucky coincidence. "I could hurt you."

"I don't care," she breathes. "I've never cared. Matt, I told you today that I love you, and I meant it. I need you." She tugs his shirt off, then his pants. "Now."

He needs her too, in every single way, and he doesn't protest anymore after that as he reaches to remove her tank top.

* * *

The morning brings a sickly gray light and several other things.

It brings Stefan's eyes fluttering open as Caroline grips his hand tight and promises him past the pain that everything will be all right, he's gonna be okay, he just needs to breathe. Stefan whimpers and bites his lip but fights the throbbing ache of his amputation until he can manage to ask for some water.

It brings Matt opening his eyes to find that everything's gone slightly dizzy and double-visioned as Bonnie bends over him and asks what's wrong, why is he breathing weird, Matt honey are you okay, _oh my god let me go get help_. She races off to find Caroline.

It brings panic and healing and infection and exhaustion and pain.

* * *

With Alaric and Katherine sitting beside Stefan to watch over him and make sure he stays conscious long enough to eat something, Caroline follows Bonnie's rushed running to her room. Matt's flat on his back on the bed, everything below his stomach thankfully covered by sheets, his eyes closed but his breathing too hard, uneven, and labored for him to be asleep. She presses gentle fingers to his wrist. "Matt? It's Caroline," she says softly. "Your pulse is really unsteady. What's wrong?"

He groans and twists away from her, and she sees the feverish glimmer of sweat on his forehead. "Go 'way, Car'line, 'm trying to sleep," he mumbles. "'M dizzy. Where's Bonnie?"

"I'm right here," Bonnie soothes, laying a hand on his forehead. He arches into the cold touch of her fingers. She exchanges a worried glance with Caroline. "He's hot."

"It's fine, he'll be fine," Caroline promises. "Maybe his cut's infected." She reaches for the bandage covering his neck.

"No!" Matt hisses, pulling away. "_Don't_! Don't touch it!"

Caroline smiles, hoping to pacify him. "It's okay, Matt. I'm just gonna check to make sure it's not making you sick." She peels away the bandage while Matt shuts his eyes tightly. Examining it, her eyes immediately take in the bite marks and her heart stops. "Oh, Matt—" she breaks off, and sees tears filling Bonnie's eyes. "Matt…"

"Don't," he rasps, sitting up. She backs away instantly, and his eyes fill with hurt. She bites her lip with guilt and he throws away the hurt in favor of warning her away. "Don't give me your pity," he barks, seeming a little clear of his surroundings. His eyes are bright with fever, fear, maybe even tears. "I don't want it. It's okay."

"No, it's not!" Bonnie snaps back. "Oh my God, Matt, you're—you're…" she cuts herself off, afraid to complete the horrifying thought.

"I'm dying," Matt finishes. "Bonnie—I wanted to tell you, I swear I did, but—I couldn't."

She looks down, biting her lip and running a hand over her face, then looks back up, trying to hold back the crying. "It's okay, Matt. I understand. You were scared." Her voice breaks on _scared_ and she looks down again, wiping away the tears furiously.

"'_Were_'? Still am," he laughs bitterly. "I just—Bonnie, I didn't know how to tell you. I was terrified of telling you. I didn't know how you'd react." He tries to reach out to her, to make eye contact, and feels the burning sensation pulsing through his veins with his throbbing, uneven heartbeat. It's the infection, poisoning, spreading through his body just before he Turns. Abruptly, he pulls back before he can touch her.

"Could I…could I be infected?" she looks up, then to Caroline.

Caroline looks between them. "Oh." Her brain quickly tries to think. "I don't know. I don't know if—if sex…I don't know. You'll just have to wait and see."

Bonnie looks crushed. "Okay."

"Bonnie, I—oh my god—I never meant to—"

"I know," she cuts him off. "It's okay, Matt. Just breathe. We're gonna find a way to fix you."

"Shut up," he laughs. "Shut up, Bonnie, you're too smart for that. It's been too long, I'm practically at the breaking point. I'm gonna Turn any minute, I can feel it in my _blood_, in my _bones_, it's happening and you can't stop it. Oh my god Bonnie I don't want to die." He sounds much younger than he should be, and her heart is twisting in her chest sickly.

Reaching out, she cups his cheek in her palm and he leans into the soothing touch that's singularly Bonnie's. "If I—if I infected you," he gasps out with pain, and she's not sure if it's more guilt or if it's just actual pain or maybe it's both, "then—you have full right to punch me unconscious. Maybe kill me. I dunno."

"Like I'd kill you, you idiot," she says thickly, trying to be funny and only falling flat a little. "I love you. Jerk."

"I never ever wanted to hurt you," he tells her. "I only—"

"Shush, I know, I know," she whispers, bringing his face to her chest. He buries himself into the smooth soft place between her shoulder and neck, arms wrapping around her body just beneath her breasts, and she didn't ever think he was going to leave her, ever like this. She can feel his fever heat burning into her bones, and she almost thinks that she's dying with him. She doesn't feel the infection like she thinks she would, but—something _else_ is dying in her, something that hurts much more and for far longer. Something like her heart.

A hand touches her other arm hesitantly, and she looks up to find Caroline's face staring at her sadly. "I'm gonna leave you two alone," she says, her voice breaking, and she reaches out to run her fingers through Matt's short hair. "Matt, I—I love you too, you know. Not like Bonnie does or anything," she laughs, "but…I'll miss you."

"Yeah," Matt exhales into Bonnie's neck. "I'm—I'm gonna miss you too. I love you."

Caroline runs her hand down the back of his neck, watching him shiver lightly at her freezing touch on his blisteringly-hot skin, and makes sure Bonnie's eyes follow her to the gun she's left lying on the nightstand, the one she picked up last night after everyone else went to bed, the one that's going to kill Matt whether by his hand or Bonnie's. Bonnie swallows, and there's some kind of righteous anger or pleading in her eyes, but she doesn't protest.

_This is the last thing that I want,_ Caroline tries to convey with her eyes, no matter how wet or hard to read they are. _But it has to be done. He deserves better, but...this is what you have to do._

Bonnie nods once, as if she's received the message, and her eyes are dry and hard and steely now. Without waiting, Caroline slips out with one last gesture—placing her hand on Matt's neck once last time to stroke down to his shaking shoulders comfortingly—and braces herself against the door once she shuts it, slipping down effortlessly into a bent position on the floor, arms curved around her knees as she curls up and cries silently.

After a few minutes, she forces herself to get up and find Alaric. After informing him of the situation quietly, he enters the room with her to find Bonnie and Matt still entwined, Bonnie's eyes still glazed but flicking to the gun on the nightstand every few seconds. Alaric approaches. "Matt," he says softly, and his voice cracks as he runs trembly fingers through his sleep-disheveled hair.

Matt stiffens. "—Ric?" he coughs out, and suddenly he's quaking with the coughs and he's nearly to the point of Turning.

"Yeah, it's me." Alaric presses a firm, comforting hand to the back of Matt's head. "I just…I just wanted you to know that—you're like my son, Matt. I protected you and you protected me—we took care of each other, and that's never gonna change. I just wish I'd protected you better." He cups the boy's neck and his thumb brushes lightly over the bite. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Matt flinches. "I deserved this. I could've let Jenna get hurt."

"Jenna can take care of herself," Alaric says, and he's almost harsh in his desperation to make the boy understand. "I can take care of her. It shouldn't have been your job. It's not your fault. It was _never_ your fault. Don't blame yourself."

As if he's been waiting for this, Matt relaxes, like he's finally let the guilt go, like he's atoned or been absolved, and he sighs. "Thank you, Ric."

"You're welcome, Matt. You...you were my favorite student." Alaric squeezes his neck tightly in a sign of affection, the closest he can get to a hug without having a breakdown, and he quietly slip outs. Once outside, he looks to Caroline. "Will he—will he Turn?" he asks quietly, hardly daring to wonder.

"No," Caroline replies, and she sounds monotone, flat, broken beyond repair. "No. Bonnie's going to—to end it. He's not gonna be in any pain for much longer."

* * *

Inside the room, Matt clutches her tighter, as if he understands what's going to come next. Bonnie thinks faintly of her dog, Catcher, that got some sort of disease when he was still a puppy that couldn't be treated. Her dad took him to the vet—that was back when her dad was still around and still cared about her and her pets—and she watched as Catcher was put down. He didn't even know what was going on. Even as a nine-year-old with scraped knees and frizzy hair and no knowledge about how hard life was, she understood then how unfair it was that he had to feel that poison flooding through his body before he fell asleep for the last time.

But even so, she thinks she understands the mercy of not letting something know that it's going to die, of letting it keep its innocence, its purity.

She thinks that maybe that's a kind of merciful unfairness. Catcher didn't know what was going to happen. He was still able to lick her hand just before he died because he was still happy, still innocent. And Matt…Matt is innocent. No matter how many zombies are around them, he can still look at her and say just six words that make her burst out laughing; he can still kiss the life out of her; he can still make her remember what it is to be happy. It doesn't matter how many people get hurt, how many zombies he shoots, how many times they get by with close calls. He still keeps that bright grin on his face, still has something right to say, still makes everyone smile, still stays innocent.

He's lived that way, and he deserves to die that way. Maybe he knows guilt and he knows what it's like to feel the infection burning away his life, but he's never going to feel the terror of the Turn itself, nor the numbness of the zombie's short, hunger-controlled life, nor the fierce yearning for human flesh riddling his bones and making him something that's not human. He's still human, and she's going to keep him that way.

She's going to save him, just like he's saved her with his perfection and his love and his ability to turn her world upside down. She's going to save him even if it kills her to do it. Because it will, she knows it will.

"Bonnie," he muffles into her throat. "Bonnie, I don't want to be one of them."

"I know," she chokes through her thick throat, blocked up by some kind of immovable lump. "I know. It's going to be okay, Matt. Come on, come sit down with me. We're gonna—we're gonna be all right…just trust me, honey."

He follows her blindly to the bed until she's resting stiffly against the headboard, back straight and firm, and he's melded into her skin and she can feel his tears burning hot against her neck. Something in her breaks as she reaches sightlessly for the gun she knows is beside her. Everything hurts and her vision has been replaced by a broken, dark red. "I love you, Matt," she says, whispering it into his ear to distract him from the sound of her picking up the gun and checking to see the two bullets inside it. "I love you so much. I _love_ you."

"I love you too," he breathes into her, and she feels deader in this moment than she's ever felt alive in her life. Nothing hurts anymore. It's all numb and frozen, despite the tears she can feel tracing their course over her face.

"Everything's gonna be okay," she whispers to him, steadying the gun. "We're all gonna be just fine. I'm gonna find us a place where you can fix cars and study history and I can plant a garden, and we're all gonna be happy—"

Matt gasps out what might be a laugh. "You're lying to me," he breathes, still laughing a little. He quiets, stills, wraps himself around her tighter. "Lie to me some more. _Please_," and she can hardly hear his voice, he's so soft-spoken in his pain.

She's never heard him beg for anything before. "I love you," she whispers. That's not a lie.

He relaxes against her, as if that's been all he's needed to hear all along, and she knows that it's time and that this is surely the moment where the world is going to be just as broken as her. But the seconds still tick by, she can feel them moving, she can feel herself aging and his skin burning hotter and everything keeps going on no matter how much it hurts for it to go on because _that's just the way it is_.

It's time.

She carefully presses the gun against his sunlight-burned hair, making sure not to do it hard enough that he'll notice, and the trigger clicks as she pulls her thumb against it. She strokes her other hand down his neck and presses a quick kiss to the crown of his head. "I love you, Matt," she whispers one last time. Aim perfected, she pulls the trigger.

* * *

In the aftermath, she clutches the corpse, wailing. Somehow, there's a quiet silence just before everyone comes rushing in, and she knows this is the last chance she'll get to mourn alone, so she pulls him to her, the gunshot still ringing in her ears. "Oh, Matt," she sobs, "Matt. _Maattttt_."

You can't Turn if half of your head is gone.


	14. high on catastrophe

A/N: Hi guys! So, I'm still alive. Here's the proof. I think this is the longest chapter yet, and hopefully you'll like it. This chapter focuses a lot on Caroline, especially towards the latter part, and the struggles she's going through. While this is a dark chapter, it's going to lead into a lighter part of the story. _Yumel_ was sweet enough to ask that I ask my biggest fan, so I send a few PMs to people that hadn't already given requests, and unfortunately I didn't get a response. However, hopefully you guys will like this chapter anyway. I worked hard on it and even though it's dark, I think things are getting better from here.

A/N 2: Also...remember how I promised like fifteen chapters? I don't think that's gonna happen...oh, well. I'm trying to wrap up, I swear.

Disclaimer: I don't own TVD. Doesn't mean I'm not making plan for when I am, though...*wicked laughter*...

Warning: _**ATTEMPTED RAPE** _(PM me if it's a trigger and you need more specifics before reading), mention of character death, minor character death, PTSD, trauma, language

* * *

_high on catastrophe_ – Cindy Morgan, "Gravity"

* * *

The funeral is quiet, with all of them standing silently around the grave. Elena leans against Elijah for support while Alaric cups Jenna's stomach from behind, though a bump isn't even visible yet. Stefan is still unconscious with Katherine at his bedside. Klaus and Damon, who dug the graves, are braced against the shovels they used to dig it, still breathing a little heavily from breaking the hard winter earth. Anna stands to the side, tempted to comfort Bonnie but unsure if it will be accepted. Jeremy places a hand on his girlfriend's shoulder and tries not to let the misery get to him. Better to mourn later.

Caroline kneels behind Bonnie's broken body as Bonnie sobs in front of the headstone. But still, the other girl is quiet except for occasionally loud sobs, and Caroline isn't sure what to tell her. "He loved you, you know," is all she says, nearly stumbling over her words with uncertainty and exhaustion. "Y—you did the right thing."

Whether it's the wrong or right thing to say, Bonnie's face doesn't reveal it. "I know," is all she whispers through her fingers, which are clapped over her mouth in an effort to contain the hitching breaths and tears from becoming too loud. "I loved him too. It was why I had to do it."

Maybe Bonnie did need to do it, but Caroline still wishes she'd taken the gun and done it for her.

The funeral lasts for only a little while. None of them have any words to say, so eventually most of them drift away into the house until it's just Bonnie and Alaric left, bound by love and guilt and grief. She places a heavy hand on the headstone quickly carved with his name—no other words would have been enough. The coffin was the hardest thing to find, but she's glad they got one. He deserved the best, even if they couldn't give it to him, so at least they gave him the best they had.

"Why don't you come inside, Bonnie?" Alaric asks as he begins to straighten, to prepare to go inside.

Bonnie bites her lip. "Maybe later."

"Okay." He doesn't push. She's grateful for that.

* * *

When Stefan awakes later, it's to a dismal and quiet house. "What's wrong with everybody?" he whispers to Katherine, and he notices that the agony of earlier has been dulled by medicine into a heavy and throbbing ache. Still, he isn't as focused on it, isn't consumed by the pain, and he's happy for that. He's also drugged to the gills.

Katherine smiles sadly. "Matt died earlier today."

"Was it a zombie?" The words feel thick and unfamiliar on his tongue.

"Not directly, if you're asking if he got attacked. He got bitten."

He struggles to sit up and feels her push down on his chest weakly. He still goes down, knowing that he's weak and can't fight her. "He didn't get bitten at the hospital, did he? He didn't die for me, did he?" He can't bear the guilt if that's true.

Pressing down to make sure he doesn't try to get up again, she shakes her head. "No. He got bitten during the battle, with…you know, your hand." She gestures faintly to the missing extremity. "It was a small bite on his neck and he hid it until he was almost ready to Turn. We couldn't have done anything about it anyway, and this way he got a longer time to live. Besides, it _was_ small—he got a longer time than most before the change nearly hit him."

"So, he…he didn't Turn?"

"No." Her expression darkens. "Bonnie shot him before he could. It's been hard on her."

He bites his lip and tastes the metallic tang of blood. "So, I remember…the bite," he winces, and Katherine helps him to sit up against the pillows when he coughs. "And I remember getting carried inside, and Caroline giving me the whiskey, and the pain…" He sighs. "So, hand's gone. Guess that's the best I can ask for, huh?"

"At least you're alive," Katherine responds firmly. "You should try to get some more rest. Nothing else is going to happen today. You're safe. We're all safe."

Turning away, Stefan reluctantly closes his eyes.

* * *

The next day, Caroline shakes him awake and helps him to sit up. "C'mon, Stefan," she tells him, and assists him into getting to his feet. "I've got something for you." She pulls out the IV.

"Where's everybody else?" he rasps as they shuffle outside and into Elijah's car.

"Asleep," she reminds him, and he remembers Katherine waking him up to tell him she was going to her bed. "It's early still, Stefan. But I left Klaus and Alaric as lookouts. We've got somewhere to be and some things to do."

He looks at her, confused, as she starts up the car. And he notices the deep black circles under her eyes. "Caroline, when was the last time you slept?" he asks gently, laying a hand on her shoulder.

She throws off his touch. "Stefan, I'm fine," she snaps. "I'm doing this for you. Just let me. I don't need to sleep right now, I'm doing just great." They're driving past the town, the hospital, everything, and finally she pulls up to a farm with a barn. "Come with me." They stagger out to the barn, him leaning on her more than he'd like to admit, and finally they're at the locked doors when she hands him two guns and a knife.

"Are you gonna leave me here or something?" he barks.

"What?" she looks genuinely shocked. "No, of course not, Stefan, don't be a moron. If I did that, it would suck for everybody. And I'd have to deal with everyone bitching. Besides, you're a good guy, Stefan, you're my friend. I care about you. I wouldn't do that to you. I just…" she takes a deep breath and glues her eyes to the floor. "I know you must be angry about what happened to you. I would definitely be pissed about losing my hand, getting bitten…everything. I've had reason enough to be angry, but you…I'd be dying to let all that rage out if I were you. I'd be furious." She smiles, but it's a bitter kind of smile. "Hell, I already am, so God knows how you're feeling. So I got you something."

She unlocks the barn door and pulls it open slowly. "Don't let it overwhelm you," she advises, "but when I saw that it was still moving, I told Jeremy and Alaric to wait, to put it in this barn so you could have it. It's the one that bit you."

He can see it now, twitching faintly in the darkness on the dirt floor of the building. Just little more than a head and chest, cut off at the waist. A torso. She made them keep the head and torso of the Walker that bit him alive so that he could…could kill it. If this were a human being, he'd refuse; but then again, if this were a human being, she never would have left it to begin with, never would have let him kill it, never would have been that inhumane.

She's giving him a chance for revenge, to let his anger go. And he can feel the injustice, the fury, the pain building up inside of him, swirling in his veins like ice, freezing his heart for a moment, begging for a chance to be let go. So he takes the knife—no guns for him, but thanks, Caroline—and shuts the door behind him, leaving her outside to wait.

* * *

When the door opens again, it's not Caroline. He turns away, still breathing heavily from the workout, and another hand, this one softer and darker, gently takes the knife from his remaining hand. Katherine doesn't smile at him, just looks at him, and then looks at the corpse at his feet.

"How is it dead?" she asks. "It looks—" she pokes at it with a steel-toed boot and sees the head split into several layers, pieces of it sliding in different directions, made only of meat and blood, no longer a face to be seen. "—normal. Wow." She tsks. "You ripped it apart and put it back together. Skills, check."

He pants, wordless, but there's a clean feeling in him now. A feeling of justice being served. Maybe it makes him a bad person to delight so much in another creature's pain, even if that creature is no longer human and just a cannibalistic machine, but that's what he is and that's what he deserves to be. He rubs hard at his arm and wipes the blood from his forehead with the back of his wrist. "I try," he grins.

"You're a Ripper," Caroline calls from the entrance to the barn, and she sounds so tired. He feels bad for her. "Great. Congrats. Can we go home now?" She disappears and he hears the car start up. She must be waiting for them.

"She went back and got me," Katherine answers his unspoken question a moment later. "She said you were taking a long time and she wanted me to make sure you were okay. Something about how you needed me more than her, how Damon wouldn't know what to say." She's quiet. "I don't know about that, but I thought I'd come anyway."

He sighs, laughs a little bitterly. "Yeah. I'm just…" he crosses his arms, sticks the knife into his belt. "I was so _angry_ before. And I didn't even know it. It was like she knew, she knew what to do, and I…I didn't even hesitate. I just ripped it apart. It was like the thing was my prey."

"You needed to feel safe again, to feel like you'd gotten even," Katherine says, and her hand takes his wrist, fingernails digging lightly into his skin. "It's understandable. You've lost a lot."

"So did you," Stefan replies, then takes a second to think. "Katherine…when you were leaving us, at the college—you were going to die—so why…why did you kiss me?" He's wanted to ask for ages, and the words are just slipping out, but he feels no need to hold them back anymore. Maybe it's the drugs from the IV or the adrenaline, but he needs to know. Now.

She smiles, bites back a laugh that's probably meant to make fun of him. "God, you just ripped that thing apart and we've both lost appendages, but no, your mind's on making out." She sighs and quiets. "I don't know," she says, barely more than a whisper. "I guess…well, I was never gonna see you again. I wanted to say goodbye in my own way. I guess I knew even then that you were special." She squeezes his wrist playfully. "Besides, you're hot, and I was gonna die. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Still does."

Stefan snickers. "Yeah, I guess so." He bites his lip. "It's just…when I was bitten and Caroline was getting ready to cut my hand off, I could still think, I could feel you squeezing my other fingers to death, and all I could think was…that I wanted to kiss you, that there were so many things I wanted to say, that you deserved to hear them. That I needed to say goodbye, to Damon and to you…and I might never get to, I might just sleep my life away while I bled out. And I wanted more than that…I wanted _you_." His voice breaks and he bows his head.

Katherine shakes her head. "Oh, Stefan." She slips her hand down from his wrist until it can tangle in his fingers on his whole hand. Their fingers entwine and twist, interlacing into a puzzle that they've only just learned to complete.

"I think…I think maybe it was meant to be this way," he says softly. "I think you were meant to lose those fingers, I was meant to lose my hand. I think we were _meant_ to fit this way."

She just smiles and grips his hand tighter, and he finally meets her eyes to find them happy and kind. "I think you're right."

* * *

When they get back, everyone is packing up. "We're leaving?" Katherine asks Anna.

Anna nods. "Damon said we need to leave, that Stefan's strong enough to go now. I packed up your stuff. We're leaving soon, I think he said twenty minutes just a while ago. We're ready to go." She adjusts her hold on her gun. "Bonnie doesn't wanna go."

"Matt's grave is here," Katherine replies. "No big surprise there."

"Why would he want to leave?" Stefan asks. "Just because I can move around doesn't mean that it's safe to go. We've practically decimated the zombie population here, except for in certain parts of the town, so why would we go? There's plenty of provisions, we could stay here for a while."

Caroline sighs. "Just go pack your stuff, Stefan. We can talk to him soon, but until then, do you think that you can pack up your IV kit and medical supplies?" At his nod, she leaves him and Katherine to pack up his things and heads to her room, the one she hasn't been in for nearly three days. _God, I need to sleep_, she thinks, sighing and scrubbing at her tired eyes. _If only so I can get my brain activity back and start functioning properly again._

When she enters, though, she finds Klaus waiting in her room. "Heard you all're leaving, love," the British man remarks without emotion as she begins shoving her things into her duffel bag. "It'll be a shame. Elijah and Elena'll miss you all, and you know I'll miss _you_ in particular." He grins devilishly at her. "I think we've formed a bond, you and I."

She winces. "Klaus, I'm sorry to leave. I like it here. But I think you should get out of my room, I'll be leaving soon, anyway."

"Yes, I know," Klaus says, stepping closer to her. "I think that's all the more reason to give you a proper goodbye right now." His hands are in her hair, and his lips on hers, and she closes her eyes as he wraps himself around her, giving in just a bit to the heavy sense of _easiness_ that she feels inside her when he smiles at her—

The door slams against the wall, and she whirls around to find Damon stalking away. "Why does this always happen," she mutters to herself, tearing herself from Klaus's lips as he attempts to kiss her again. "I have to go, Klaus. It's been fun, and I really do like you. But it's time for me to leave and I'm sure you'll move on easily." She smiles. "Goodbye, Klaus."

As soon as she's out the door, duffel over her shoulder, she runs quickly out the door of the house and to the front porch, where everybody is piling into the RV. Damon is helping Bonnie into the RV, the girl's gaze still on the headstone in the backyard, and turns his eyes on her, steely and cold. "You're not coming," he tells her before she can say anything.

"What?" she asks, breathless from the run and from confusion, unable to understand.

"I said you're not coming," he repeats harshly. "I promised Liz I'd protect you, give you a home and a place to be safe, and I've done that. You can stay here with Elijah and Elena. Besides, you and Klaus seem close, I'm sure you'll be happy here."

"But—" she stumbles, searching for words. "But I want to come with you."

"Yeah, well, I don't want you to come with us," Damon says. "You endangered Stefan today and that's more risk than I think we can handle. You've outlasted your welcome."

For a moment, her mind is terrifyingly blank. "Fine," is what she says, and it comes out cold and emotionless. If he wants to be like this, _fine_. "You know what? I have," she spits out. "I _only_ saved your lives several times, I _only_ kept Stefan safe, I _only_ tried to be part of a family. I should have known it wouldn't work. Everyone I'm ever with ends up dead or broken, and you were broken when I came here anyway, for whatever reason. You know what? I don't _want_ to stay with you. I'm better off by myself, anyway. I've always been. I've already lost everyone else, I should have learned that a long time ago. Everyone I loved is either dead or broken, and always because of me. I'm better off alone."

His jaw tightens and he turns away, opening the driver's door of the RV. Jenna comes up to her, broken and standing still on the front porch, and presses a radio into her hand. "He'll come around," she promises. "Stefan said he's like this sometimes, he's just angry, he can't think straight, but he'll realize how much he misses you, he'll come back. I swear."

"I don't want him to," she replies, and for a second she's sure that she means it, but then she remembers how much she—how much she_ cares _about him, despite his stupidity and his absolutely infuriating ability to misunderstand things. "I love you guys, but Damon can go straight to hell."

After exchanging hugs with everybody—even Anna, who runs out to tell her goodbye—she smiles and meets Damon's eye in the driver's seat. Her smile melts away into a cold empty expression, matching his, and she turns away as the rest of them pile into the RV.

* * *

She packs her bag up about ten minutes later. Despite Elena's protests and Elijah's gentle prodding, she tells them firmly that she needs to go. "I don't belong here," she continues, voice rising over Elena's interruptions. "I don't want you all to get hurt. Elena, you're happy here. Don't let me ruin it."

"You're not being logical," Elijah says, ever the voice of reason as she's noticed. "How long has it even been since you slept?"

Caroline shrugs. "Doesn't matter," she replies. "I just know I can't stay here. But, Elena, be safe… for me. Stay with Elijah. Be happy. Maybe we can communicate over these radios. But I want you to be happy and, most importantly, I want you to be safe. So don't leave unless you have to. This is your new home. And you deserve it."

Elena takes her hand. "I'm gonna miss you."

This is their second goodbye in just a few days, but somehow Caroline knows that she won't be seeing Elena for a long time, if ever again. So she lets the other girl pull her in for a hug, lets her throat clog up with whatever she's been choking down these last few days—blood or tears or grief or whatever it is—lets herself _feel_, if only for one brief moment.

"You too," she whispers into Elena's dark hair, and reluctantly pushes Elena away. "Be safe."

After nodding to Elijah and Klaus as a goodbye, she walks away. Without turning her head to look back.

* * *

"Damon, think about this," Stefan urges him, standing behind the driver's seat. "We need Caroline."

"Sit back down," Damon grits out between his clenched teeth, knuckles firmly whitening on the steering wheel. They've barely been driving for half an hour, he'd hoped for longer before Stefan decided to plead with him. "You're gonna fall over at the next curve and break something and God knows where we'll be then."

"Yeah, God knows, since you threw away one of the two medically trained people that we _have_," Stefan says harshly.

Sighing, Damon pinches the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. "You're giving me a headache, Stefan. Let's talk about this later, when we pull over for the night."

"No. Let's talk about this _now_." Stefan climbs past him and sits in the passenger seat, looking quietly out the window for a few minutes. Damon wishes he'd hurry up and say something, _anything_, so he can make his standard snarky comment and get Stefan to leave him alone for a little while. Sighing, Stefan opens his mouth and speaks, eyes still on the scenery they're passing by. "What really makes you mad about Caroline? That you caught her with Klaus or whatever it was? Or that you've been falling in love with her for the past few months?"

Damon forces his eyes back onto the empty back road. "I am not in love with Caroline."

"Yes, you are, and you think that makes you weak, you think that you're going to lose her, and you're _wrong_," Stefan says firmly, moving his head and forcing Damon to make eye contact with him by some unearthly pleading-little-brother power. "Because you've already lost her. You pushed her away.

"And it's more than that," Stefan continues, "because you didn't just lose the girl you love. You made _us_ lose a friend and a team member—a part of our family. And every single one of us can feel it. Bonnie and Anna and Jenna and Katherine have all lost a friend. Jeremy and Alaric and I have lost a part of the family, a girl to depend on. We've lost a medic and a confidant and a part of _us_, all because you were scared. And there's a lot of things to be scared of in this new world, but love?" Stefan smiles sadly. "I thought it was something to be afraid of once, but not anymore. I'm not scared to love. Why should you be? If anyone's gonna survive, it's Caroline. She's proved that much. She's strong, whether you push her away or hold her close. What I gotta ask is this: do you honestly think _you'll_ survive the first one? Because you don't seem to be doing too good of a job to me. You look like a wreck and you're not exactly much better inside your head, I'll bet.

"So what makes you think you deserve this? And more than that, what makes you think you have the right to push your fears onto us and make us lose her? Caroline is important to everyone in this goddamned RV and you pushed her away because you think she doesn't love you, or that even if she does, you'll hurt her. Well, let me tell you this. That girl has survived losing her entire family, her boyfriend, and all of her friends. She's got just as much of a sob story as any of us, maybe more so for some, but she's also getting by a hell of a lot better than some of us here. She'll be fine no matter_ what_ you do.

"But leaving her there? Not your best choice, because I don't think _we'll_ all be fine without _her_. I think we all need her. _You_ need her, however much you hate to think of it. And I think you're going to realize that soon, and, for all you know, it might be too late. She might already be gone." Stefan shakes his head and turns back to the window. "And what are you going to do then?"

Damon stops the vehicle and lets it idle for a while on the side of the road.

"It's time to decide what kind of man you are, what kind of a _person _you are in this new world of ours," Stefan says, standing up and crawling past him. "Are you the kind that abandons your family, or the kind that goes back for them because it's the right thing to do?"

Stefan's just getting settled up top, with Katherine next to him, when Damon starts the RV again and turns around. He smiles. "Let's just hope he's in time," Katherine says quietly from beside him.

"He will be if he knows what's good for him."

* * *

It's too quiet outside and it's getting colder and darker thanks to the early winter nights. She's worried about the lack of telltale sounds; so far as she can tell, there's no sign of nature around, which usually means that all of the normal creatures have been run off by something. In this case, most likely zombies. The possibility of other people is nearly unimaginable at this point.

She scrubs at her eyes. It's been weeks since she slept peacefully, haunted by nightmares and guilt and just the need to stay alert in order to survive, and days since she last tried to sleep through the night. At this point, she just needs to find a safe place to hole up and get her three or four hours in, and then she'll keep going. She's hardly more than three miles from the mansion, but that's mostly because she hasn't found a car to hotwire yet and she went in the opposite direction of the town. After all, there are lots of zombies in that town and she only has so many guns.

Of course, this place could have a lot of zombies too now that she thinks about it. _Stop it, Caroline, you need to calm down,_ she forces herself to focus. _Nothing's going to get you, you're too smart for that. Damn it, you've survived too much to _not_ be too smart for that. Just breathe. You can take down whatever comes after you._

Another mile passes as darkness falls completely, and she's relieved beyond belief when she comes upon what appears to be an abandoned gas station and convenience store. Despite the number of cars outside, she heads straight for the store. She needs food, and then she can worry about getting herself a car. Once inside, she's shocked to find one of the lights on as well as the television. _Are there people here?_

Her question is answered when a man around forty years of age rounds the corner of one of the aisles, stopping abruptly and running his eyes up and down her figure. His hair is greasy, long and halfway hidden under a baseball cap smudged with blood. He holds a baseball bat in his hands, also smeared with the sticky red liquid, and his eyes are the strangest, coldest brown she's ever seen. His clothes are stained as well with blood, and something about him gives her a bad feeling. "Well, what do I have here?" he muses to himself, and his voice sounds like he's been gargling with gravel. "A pretty girl," he answers himself. "And all alone, too."

"I have friends," she finds herself telling him, and her voice is much steadier than she thought it would be, compared to her shaking hands that she hides as best she can. "They'll be here any minute. You'd better back off. I just want to get some food. Granola bars, water bottles. I'll take whatever I can. Just leave me alone."

"Can't do that, sweetheart," he rasps, and she shivers at the pet name. Unexpectedly, he lashes out and grabs at her wrist. Startled, she tries to fight back, trying to think of ways to get him to go away—but her knife is in her shoe and her guns are in her bag. She should have thought through this and pulled out a weapon before coming inside, but she was so excited at the thought of other people that—

_That she forgot how dangerous people could be too._

(And God, she should know that better than anybody.)

It takes a minute of struggling, but eventually she manages to reach out and kick him in the gut. While he's down, she gives him a knee to the balls and stomps on his instep. As he's groaning, she grabs the baseball bat he dropped and swings it so that it lands on his head, knocking him out cold. Her heart stops when she notices that his jeans are unzipped. _Was he really going to—_

_ Yes,_ she reminds herself. _Trust no one. Now it's time to get out of here._

She's packing up some food from one of the shelves—peanut butter crackers, PopTarts, and cans of soup are at the top of the list right now—when she hears another shuffling sound. And there's another man, dressed similarly, staring down at his unconscious friend. Then he looks up at her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snarls. "Killing my friend, taking my food?"

"He's not de—" she starts to stutter, but then she realizes that she doesn't know if he's dead or not. And then she hopes for a minute that he is, and then she can't breathe because _what kind of person wishes that_?

"You're gonna wish you were when I'm done with you," he cuts her off nastily, stepping over his friend and picking up the abandoned, bloodied baseball bat.

She takes off running, zipping up her bag and hoping she can find somewhere to hide. Maybe if she hurries, she can find a car with the keys still inside. Maybe she can start it up and then get out one of her guns if that doesn't work. Maybe she can reach down and get her knife and throw it and—

As she's running for the doors, she turns and looks back to find him unzipping his fly before coming after her. _Why the hell would he—oh. He wants me to know. He wants to scare me._ And he's succeeding. She can feel her breathing speed up that has nothing to do with her running. She sprints outside but she can hear him pounding after her, and she risks a glance—

Only to slam into another body: solid, strong, familiar. Muscled arms—that she knows so well—catch her before she falls, and she turns to look up at Damon's face. His eyes are full of so many emotions that she can't even decipher them. "Damon—_please_," she gasps, dropping to her knees, and she hears the hammering of the man's footsteps behind her, and then they abruptly stop. And she can _feel_ him, her threat, standing just a few feet away, panting and still holding the bat.

She realizes that she's terrified, but more than that, she's _trembling_. A physical sign of weakness, and no, she can't let herself—_Calm down, Caroline._ She buries her face in Damon's knee and takes comfort in the smell of his jeans. God, he smells like soap and leather and something citrusy—she'd almost call it feminine if it wasn't Damon.

"What the hell do you want?" Damon's voice grits out, steely and angry. She remembers when that voice was directed at her, and she shuts her eyes tight, biting her lip. She wishes she could close her ears, so she wouldn't have to hear, wouldn't even have to know that the man is there.

"Just getting a little revenge," says the other man, his voice just as ruined and raspy as his friend's. "She hurt my friend."

"Did your friend have his fly unzipped, too?" Damon hisses, and she can feel him moving as he pulls his gun out of his back pants pocket. "Just give me a reason," and there's something pleading about the way he says it.

There's a clattering sound, and she imagines that the man's dropped the bat in surrender. "Please—" the man sounds desperate, the anxiety of the damned, the soon-to-be-dead, and she'd summon up some pity for him if he hadn't almost—_almost_—

She sucks in a deep breath and lets the exhale shake her all the way down to her bones. Maybe Damon feels it and gets pissed or maybe he's pissed enough already, because he pulls the trigger. The sound of the gunshot echoes in her ears the way no other gunshot has since this whole thing has started, not even the ones that she fired that killed her father and his family, not even the ones she's fired fighting for her life, not even the one that killed Matt. It's still echoing in her ears when she realizes that she's being pulled up by the arms, strong callused fingers gripping her biceps as Damon tugs her up until she's standing.

"—line? Are you okay?" she hears him asking as soon as the sound of blood rushing in her ears disappears. He shakes her by the shoulders a little and she leans in to focus on his face more. "Care?" he asks. "_Caroline!_"

Caroline inhales sharply and squeezes her eyes shut, humiliatingly aware of the wetness on her cheeks. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she stammers out, tripping over the complicated words, and she can't _breathe_ goddammit, "I'll be fine—"

Something like relief and worry wrapped in one replace the terror in his eyes, and without warning, Damon crushes his body to hers, trapping her head to his chest. She almost fights back but then melts into the warmth, still babbling. "I didn't sleep with Klaus, I'm sorry, I swear we just kissed, that's all, I swear, I'm _sorry_," she begs.

"I know, I know," he soothes, one hand stroking down her hair as he holds her up. Her legs give out on her and he just takes on more of her weight until he's singlehandedly keeping her upright. "I should have trusted you. I'm sorry I didn't. I just—I was scared. Please believe me."

She just cries. It's one thing to nearly get killed by a mindless brain-eating machine, but to nearly get killed by another _person_—it's enough to make her want to give up. "I haven't been sleeping," she blurts out into the soft fabric of his shirt. "I couldn't. And I shouldn't have said the things that I said, I just didn't think and you made me so _angry_…"

"Shh," he presses a soft kiss to the crown of her head. "Don't. You were right. All the things you said, they were true. I was the one who was wrong. I shouldn't have judged you and I shouldn't have told you to leave; it wasn't my place and I didn't really want you to go."

Caroline looks up at him hesitantly at those words, biting on her lower lip to keep it from wobbling. "You—you didn't mean it?" she breathes, and that's when she notices the RV in the background—Stefan, standing and watching; Jenna, eyes on her even though she's crying in Alaric's lap; Katherine, eyes wide at the sight of her breakdown; Bonnie, hand clapped to her mouth in fear; Jeremy and Anna, eyes heartbreakingly puppy-dog-wide. "You didn't mean it?" Her voice cracks.

Damon pulls her to his chest once again, resting his chin on the top of her head as his arms encircle her back, tightening around her until she's comforted with the fact that he's not letting go anytime soon. "_I didn't mean it_," he promises, and for a moment she thinks he might be crying, too.

And then she's too exhausted to know anything anymore.

* * *

A/N: Um. Hopefully you liked it? We're on the track to getting better. :)


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